He is the Dragonborn
by LockStockBarrel
Summary: The life and legend of Arnsmyth Bulgoar, the last and greatest Dragonborn. After spending most of his adult life away in Cyrodiil, tragedy forces him to return to his homeland of Skyrim, only to be caught up in unimaginable events from the moment he arrives. Story will follow main story line through DLC and beyond. Rated for Violence/Gore, Sexual content, and some language.
1. A New Nightmare--Helgen

Arnsmyth Bulgoar stared wide eyed in disbelief as two imperial guards were incinerated only twenty feet from where he kneeled in the mud.

He had just managed to slice through his bindings using the Axe man's discarded Great Axe that merely moments before was going to be used to behead Arnsmyth, or at least, they were going to try.

Arn had tried reasoning and remonstrating with the Prelate woman who seemed in charge. He couldn't get the attention of a General Tullius who seemed entirely preoccupied with the execution of some other prisoner named Stormcloak.

They didn't believe he was just a traveler coming back home after years away in Cyrodiil. They seemed recklessly convince he was a spy for some rebellion they were rounding up. They didn't believe he had formerly served the legion with distinction in the Great War despite being only a lad in his teens at the time.

The only one to listen to any of his entreaties had been one of the guards who asked the Prelate if they could really justify executing a man not on the list. But just like Arn's entreaties, the Prelate didn't listen.

After getting a few vicious backhands from the guards when he tried to continue reasoning, he'd started plotting how to escape on his own, taking careful stock of how many guards there were, where they were at, and how they were armed.

He'd been dragged from the line of prisoners and thrust onto the Axman's block. He had been about to roll to the side and kick the guard behind him into the Ax man when the unthinkable happened.

An earth shaking roar erupted from overhead and large shadow swooped by, the gush of air shaking the trees.

Everyone froze and looked up to behold a dragon..yes...truly it was a dragon. It could be no other. Like something out of a bad dream, Arnsmyth found himself about to be beheaded only to look up at a monstrosity that shouldn't exist.

Another roar echoed so loudly, most of the people in the courtyard were covering their ears, and the dragon appeared suddenly, crashing to a perch atop one of the guard towers and spewing forth flame and death for the first of many times.

Years spent in combat and harrowing situations allowed Arnsmyth to react almost without thinking, immediately rolling to the side, knocking down the stupified Ax man who dropped his Ax.

Slitting loose his bound hands, he immediately beelined across the chaos of the courtyard toward one of the towers. He needed to get out of sight of the distracted guards and some cover from that beast.

He was met part way by the previously sympathetic guardsman and thought for a moment he was going to try to detain him, but the guard, who introduced himself as Hadvar, motioned him to follow inside if he wanted to escape.

Once inside, Arn felt a wave of relief partly flood over him.

_Nothing like escaping your own execution to start the morning.._

Hadvar immediately found a chest and handed him some imperial armor to wear and a steel sword.

"What happened to my own?" Arn asked angrily.

"They're in the tower the dragon's currently sitting on"...Hadvar answered a little sheepishly.

The tower they were in shook and rafter beams broke loose, falling to the floor as Arn and Hadvar ducked into a hallway down further into the structure.

"We really should get moving!" shouted Hadvar as the tower continued to shake.

They made their way through the barracks, out and in a few buildings toward what Hadvar said was a tunnel escape out of the keep into the mountains.

As they made their way, the carnage outside was unmistakable.

More and more flames sprouted everywhere. Several places in the towers were already crumbling. Corpses littered what could be seen of the courtyard. The sickening stench of burnt flesh filled the air.

They rounded a corner and stopped in their tracks as they confronted a group of prisoners arming themselves with the weapons and armor of the imperial guards who lay freshly slain at their feet.

Arn recognized one of them as having been in line with him...Ralof he thought his name was.

The one named Ralof opened his mouth to apparently address Arn, but before he could get much out, a woman next to Ralof and another of his comrades yelled "More Imperials!" and attacked Hadvar and Arn.

"I remem- Wait!" Ralof cried in vain as his fellow "stormcloaks" as Arn saw they fancied calling themselves attacked.

The battle gave Arn a familiar feeling as he wielded sword and shield against a frenzied opponent.

He angled himself into a fighting stance and waited a second or two for the charging woman to commit to her rash overhead attack with a Battleaxe, then side stepped slightly, avoided the blow, brought his sword lightly down on the ax wielding hand, cutting enough for the woman to screech and drop the ax. Then he brought his sword back up, arcing across just under the woman's chin, easily beheading her, the twitching face unnerving the other attackers as it rolled across the floor.

"Come, this is a waste of time!" cried Ralof to the others as he and another prisoner in rags ran from the room as the foundations quaked again with whatever the dragon was doing outside.

Hadvar was trading blows with a greatsword wielding ex-prisoner in rags. Arn thought about intervening, but decided against it instead and leaned against the wall for a moment to watch.

But after another sloppy exchange of blows between the two, he got impatient, drew his sword and faked an obvious lunge at the prisoner, who panicked and turned too far to keep his guard up against Hadvar, who promptly ran him through with his longsword.

"Why didn't you help?" Hadvar asked in an annoyed tone as he pried his sword from his opponent's rib cage.

"Don't rutting tell me you wear a legionnaire's colors but can't handle some sot with a big sword?" impatiently returned Arn.

Hadvar didn't reply. He just stared at Arnsmyth with a mixture of unease and consideration. Wiping the blood on his blade off on the corpse's ragged clothes, he motioned further down the keep.

"A short distance from here and we'll be home free into the cave that will get us far enough out into the woods away from the dragon" Hadvar remarked as they made their way more cautiously this time down the passage.

"And then what?" replied Arn, who'd been wondering this whole time why Hadvar was actually helping him. It seemed unlikely to be a gesture of good will since those seemed lacking in the Skyrim he had returned to. More likely Hadvar wanted him to do something, though Arn couldn't surmise what that might be since he himself was still unsettled about the dragon and wasn't able to keep the images and roars completely from his mind.

"Then we need to get the word out that a dragon has attacked. My uncle Alvor lives in Riverwood. He can help us until we figure out where to go" stated Hadvar matter of factly.

Arn was a little surprised by the younger man's openness and considered maybe he spoke truly.

It took them an hour to carefully navigate what was left of the keep and through a not so secret cave system into the green forests and blue sky of Skyrim.

It was such a refreshing sight, Arn wondered if he was somehow enchanted and imagined the whole thing, but a roar in the distance brought him back to reality.

"It's probably better if we split up. I have to go warn the legion encampment east of here. You know how to get to Riverwood from here?" Hadvar asked nervously, still eyeing the sky.

"Should be southeast of here, what, a day's journey?" replied Arn.

"Yah, something like that. If you make it and I'm not there, look up my uncle Alvor. He's the Blacksmith there. He will help you. May the Nine protect you" said Hadvar, giving him a Legion salute and handshake before departing.

Arn began making his way, being a bit more cautious than he probably normally would be, his mind still replaying the scene in the keep courtyard over and over. The roar of the dragon, it's black scaled hide with reddish orange zigzaggy stripes patterning it's entirety, swooping back and for, snapping up a soldier here, belching flame there, the flames, the screams of the soldiers...

Arn was jostled out of his reverie by someone screaming in front of him.

He stumbled in surprise just in time to see an icicle go flying by his head.

In the woods ahead, as a Bosmer woman in a black robe screamed a spell out and hurled more icicles his way.

He got his shield out in time to block these and charged the spellcaster. Painful memories flashed before him, recalling the last time he'd fought a spellcaster and why, making him charge faster and with more determination as the caster tried to cast enough cold spells to freeze Arn's shield and person before he could get to her, but Arn was too quick.

Despite beginning to feel numb in his shield arm, he was able to bash at the same time he collided with the caster, knocking her off her feet and back into a tree. Arn didn't let up. He unleashed a string of slicing attacks to break down the barrier the caster feebly tried to put up.

It didn't last long. The barrier collapsed with a hiss of bluish white color and Arn slashed the caster across the torso, cleaving robe and flesh. The woman collapsed immediately, eyes full of hate at Arn as she tried to gargle out another spell through the blood coming out of her mouth.

Arn stabbed her through the throat to prevent any death throes surprises and spit in disgust on her corpse as he wrenched the blade back out, trying to flex his shield arm to get feeling back into it.

He groaned in sadness, trying to forget the memories the encounter had brought back to the surface.

He'd come back to Skyrim to get away from that.

Thoroughly angry now, he sheathed his sword and began searching the caster, finding nothing much but a few septims and a couple of potions.

As he resumed his trip to Riverwood, He marveled how much things had changed since the last time he was in Skyrim. When he was a boy, it would have been unthinkable that Dragons even existed, or that you would be randomly arrested and executed for being in a particular area, or that some random spellcaster would set upon you in the woods in broad daylight.

Of course, that was thirty years ago. This was certainly not the Skyrim he had been expecting to return to.


	2. Old Times and New Times-- Riverwood

Old Time's Sake

The melodic sound of a woman laughing floated into Arnsmyth Bulgoar's ears as he trudged into the small hamlet of Riverwood.

It had taken him twice as long as it should have to reach Riverwood.

His feet were sore and he was tired from walking and climbing cautiously through unfamiliar terrains.

A dragon and an attacking mage weren't the only nasty things in these woods.

He'd been set upon by a group of amateur bandits demanding "toll" and attacked by a set of wolves.

Now as the sun was setting, the smoky smell of something cooked, warm firelight from comfortable looking houses, and the prospect of meeting other people who weren't trying to kill or rob him sparked renewed enthusiasm in his tired body.

He pushed through the door of Riverwood Inn and basked for a moment in the warmth before making straight for the man at the counter who appeared to run things.

He'd gotten a decent amount of money from the bandits who'd tried to fleece him on the way. The first one had been beheaded before he'd even finished threatening Arn sufficiently. The second died quickly after a riposte on a sloppy attack. The third fled for a brief bit before Arn's thrown sword had gotten him in the leg, then he just finished him off.

"You got any rooms?" he said tiredly, tossing a few septims on the counter and nodding to the bottles of mead.

"Yes, we do-Delphine! Room" he hollered across the room.

Arn's gaze followed the yell to note the group of people all seated around some man apparently spinning a good yarn or some such thing.

His gaze immediately caught sight of a young attractive Imperial born woman with dark hair and yellow frock on. He hoped for a second this would be the Delphine he'd do business with but was disappointed when an older Breton woman turned and emerged to talk to him.

Delphine looked like she had been a great beauty once but life hadn't been kind. A sharpness to her facial features combined with graying hair pulled back in a pony tail and some wrinkled worry lines on her face didn't do justice to the shape she kept her body in.

Arnsmyth had been a fighter all his life and knew the little things to look for in a person's body, posture, and complexion that would signify the same of someone else.

Despite the country frock and peasant exterior, this Delphine obviously knew how to swing a blade from the thickness of muscle on her limbs, calluses on her hands, and the lack of any fat or jiggling hips made it a lot more likely she had more muscle than she wanted to let on.

As she approached, he noticed she gave him the same once over briefly before returning to the peasant inkeeper act.

"Ah, an Imperial legionnaire, are you from Helgen?" she asked.

_He was still wearing the full imperial armor Hadvar had given him._

"You've heard of the dragon attack then?" returned Arn, hoping to avoid any details of why he was in Helgen.

"So...it truly was a dragon then?" she said slowly, pursing her lips and bringing her hand under her chin as if in deep thought.

"Did any of the others make it?" Arn asked, wondering if Hadvar had made it here before him.

Delphine didn't immediately answer, so the Innkeeper spoke up as Arn realized everyone else had gotten quiet, hanging on any information about Helgen.

"Two men came stumbling out of the woods babbling about a dragon attack yesterday, but they were both in bad shape...bad bad burns. One died shortly after arriving...the other passed this morning. We don't really have any skilled healers here. One of the town guards left to investigate but hasn't returned. No one was sure what to believe" the inkeeper finished.

"Well, Believe it. A dragon haunts that area. I saw the destruction it wrought firsthand and I was sent to warn the Jarl of Whiterun" stated Arn more loudly as he realized he was more or less addressing everyone in the hamlet in that room.

As soon as he had finished, a cacophony of voices erupted from them all. Some asked more questions of him. Others demanded he leave at once for the Jarl to get more protection for Riverwood. Still others, notably the attractive woman he had noted earlier he now knew was named Camilla, urged them to let him rest and recuperate from his ordeal.

The whole time, Arn didn't respond or say a word. He simply leaned on the counter and swigged the mead that probably wasn't very good but seemed heavenly after the events of the last few days.

After a brief time, or at least he thought it was brief, he realized the mead was starting to affect him.

Arnsmyth used to be able to down mead with the best of them when he was a young man. Now he never seemed to have a reason to celebrate like he did then.

He knew that drinking this much mead this quickly after not having anything of the sort for several months or so was probably a bad idea and he needed to have a plan for the night in place before he said or did anything foolish.

"I'll stay here tonight and rest for the journey to Whiterun tomorrow. It's far too perilous to travel at night" he interrupted into the chorus of voices who went silent as he spoke.

He finished his mead too quickly and pondered the situation he'd gotten himself into for a moment before he found himself staring at Camilla's clothed breasts from across the room.

He was shaken out of his lustful reverie when he realized Delphine was asking him more questions about the dragon attack.

He realized he hadn't caught a thing she said. He must really be fading. This was bad.

She stood there cleaning the counter..again. She'd done that already once...twice? before just now? Was she following him?

"I really should retire. I'll try to answer tomorrow what I can" he mumbled in reply before retiring to the back left room Delphine had motioned him to during the general discussion.

Sleep was no comfort though.

The same dreams haunted his mind that had plagued him for months, except this time worse.

_A ruined campsite...the bodies of friends and comrades littering the ground...a blood trail...a moonlit ruin filled with cloaked figures...the naked body of his beloved Desarra impaled on a stake...He felt himself running toward them...maybe this time he would be in time to save her from the macabre ritual...maybe this time he would slay them all...as he neared to strike the first figure, they all turned to him and changed shape...all of them morphing together to form the head of the black and orange dragon...it's gaping maw the size of a building...Arn charged and the Dragon breathed out flame...engulfing and burning his flesh off..._

Arnsmyth bolted up in bed with a start, coming to the sudden realization it was just a bad dream and also the realization that a dark figure was in his room, going through his things.

Even though the cloaked figure clearly had the drop on him, Arn reacted quicker, lunging off the bed and tackling the intruder against the small room's wall, knocking things off the dresser and sending his things scattering.

They struggled awkwardly for a minute as he realized several things: first, his assailant was a woman in a tight magically imbued leather jerkin. Second, she was strong and knew several bare hand fighting moves; and Third, none of that was going to stop Arnsmyth.

She put up a good fight. He had to give her that. She even managed to land an elbow to his jaw. That really made him bring things to a halt. Disentangling himself momentarily, he dodged a well aimed jab and kicked her in the midsection, sending her back against the night stand and wall, causing more noise and following it up with a hard backhand across the side of her head, causing her to fall on the bed face first.

As she did so, he noticed at the same time she went for it, a dagger in a sheath at her waist.

He leaped on her back, pinning her in place and clamped down on her dagger wielding hand with one arm and reached up to yank back the leather cloak hood with the other.

"Unhand Me!" Delphine hissed

"Really? and what have those hands of yours taken?" sneered Arn in reply.

"Nothing!"

"Oh truly...well, I'm sure you were just breaking in my room and rifling my things as a gesture of good will!"

"I didn't think you were who you claimed to be!" she hissed again, continuing to squirm, trying to get out from his hold.

"Maybe because you're not who you claim to be!" replied Arn as he began searching her pockets and armor for any more surprises or things she'd taken.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"You're the ridiculous one. You think no warrior would notice the muscle and calluses in your wrists and hands and you hardly fit the appearance and stock of hamlet innkeeper!"

Delphine stopped struggling for a moment as she seemed to realize only then she was caught in something she hadn't anticipated but didn't reply.

"So what is it? You lead the local bandits by shepherding travelers to them? Some agent for whatever this rutting rebellion is that's got everyone angrier than a skeever on skuma?"

"No!" she hastily and Arn thought truthfully denied, although he had a harder time reading women when it came to impressions.

A loud rapping on the door interrupted them. The aggravated voice of the co-innkeeper Orgnar followed shortly thereafter.

"Camilla, damn it lass! You can't keep doing this! You're brother's already offering me money to keep you out and you're back at it again with this stranger! Leave him alone! He's got to make it to the Jarl or we'll never get any protection for Riverwood! Now come out this instant and go home or you're brother and the town guard will hear of this!"

Arnsmyth smirked in surprise at Delphine who huffed and rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Looks like the town lass makes it around a lot, does she" stated Arn bemusedly, while also pondering what course of action to take now.

As he was pondering, the innkeeper tried to force his way in and pounded on the door again.

"Last Warning, Camilla!"

Arn was about to drag Delphine off the bed and throw her at the innkeeper's feet when she managed to wriggle her way just enough off his center of gravity that she got loose and sent him rolling off the bed at the same time.

He sprang back up, ready for another blow when he realized she wasn't attacking him. In fact, she was undressing hastily.

"Please play along" she whispered as she pulled the leather jerkin over her head and threw it to the side. She was wriggling out of the leather pants when she grabbed the blanket on the bed, wrapped it around her now naked form, unlocked and opened the door.

It took him a second to figure out what she was doing, then decided in the last split second to play along for now.

When the door to the room opened, Orgnar was stunned into silence to find NOT Camilla, but his boss and fellow innkeeper Delphine in an obvious state of undress with the stranger in the bed in a seemingly similar state.

"De-Delphine...I..uh...I didn't know...um" he stuttered, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck.

"What I do in my own time is my business, Orgnar, and I doubt this man likes getting interrupted any more than I DO!" she sneered with such force that Arn almost felt sorry for the innkeeper who shrinked away from her and trotted back to this room.

Delphine slammed the door shut in a huff and threw the blanket back to Arn, who was lying in the bed, slightly amused but also felt his loins growing harder with every glimpse of her skin in the moonlight through the small window.

As the blanket settled he caught a glimpse of her naked body as she strode around the bed and collected her discarded leathers.

"So...why did you do that?" asked Arn trying to gulp down the lump that had arisen in his throat at the sight of her.

"Why did I do what?" she asked as she pulled the leather pants back up over her buttocks and fastened the belt loop.

"You...were ready to fight me before. What changed?"

"I saw that" she said reverently, pointing to his Imperial Legion tatoo on his shoulder.

"But you already thought I was in the legion."

"Yes, but that mark is different from the ones they use now...I recognize it" she said, slowly tracing her fingers over it, making Arn shudder slightly at the contact, realizing how close she was sitting to him and that she was still naked from the waist up "...They haven't used that particular mark for nearly thirty years. That would put you in the legion during the Great War."

Arnsmyth was beginning to put the pieces together, he thought.

"You fought in the Great War as well..." he ventured.

"Yes...and lost as well" she murmured as though talking to someone else, facing away from him.

For a moment they were both silent, Arnsmyth remembering some of his fallen friends and brothers in arms...so many gone, so quickly...

He realized that bond had evaporated any hostility they'd had instantly. Strange how that could happen.

He shook himself from the memories to see her sitting silently still near him on the edge of the bed looking out the window at the stars. Her still naked breasts heaved a sigh and he realized she must be reliving similar memories. She was no voluptuous beauty, but she was still a fit woman and it had been a long time since he'd been with anyone.

Part of him, maybe particularly his cock, wanted to pull her into an embrace, but it didn't seem right. She was probably a former soldier herself, maybe an ex-spy who still fancied keeping her skills sharp.

She was no threat to him, though he felt a little bad for putting her in this predicament with her fellow innkeeper, though he also wasn't sure what there was he could have done differently.

He looked at her again to find her staring intently at him.

"Well, by tomorrow morning, the whole village will hear from Orgnar that we were rutting like rabbits...I don't meet many people I have any respect for, especially not men anywhere near my age...You- seem to find me attractive enough..." she trailed off, sliding her hand across his bulging crotch "I would not be opposed to staying..."

As she finished talking, Arn had already made up his mind, or rather his body had made it up for him. He firmly grabbed her by one shoulder and laid her down, grabbing the top of the leather breeches and pulling them down and off her feet with the other hand.

Then he set to work answering the growing demands his body and even hers seemed to want.

He hadn't been with a woman for a long time...not since Desarra. No, he was NOT going to think of that right now.

As he began thrusting in earnest into her, though, memories of making love to Desarra came unbiden back into his mind.

It had been a long time for both of them apparently. It seemed like they had barely started when she gasped and tightened around him and he exploded inside her in turn.

He looked at her in the dim moonlight. She had kept her eyes shut the whole time, never grabbing him or responding with her hands at all, though her legs were wrapped around his waist.

They lay together in the bed panting for awhile before he dozed off again. This time the images in his mind weren't as violent as before.

They both awoke to the chirping of birds outside and sunlight flooding the small window.

They repeated their rutting of the previous night in about as awkward and quick manner as they had done before, though this time there was a little more desperation to the act as though each was trying to hold onto some long forgotten piece of something that would be gone once the other was gone.

When it was done, Delphine went to the dresser and used the damp cloth in the basin to clean herself up a bit before donning her leathers and slipped out with a quiet "Thank you and farewell".

Arnsmyth pondered for a short while after she left, but no matter how he looked at it, he felt increasingly angry. Angry for losing Desarra, angry for not getting all those responsible, angry he kept thinking of Desarra, angry he hadn't been able to enjoy being with Delphine, and angry he hadn't been able to please her like he should have.

He looked out the window. He knew the perfect way to work out that frustration.

Pounding after pounding, Arnsmyth worked the steel in Alvor's shop in the way his father had first taught him as a boy and he'd perfected as he grew into a man.

Alvor had decent enough material to work with, just not the patience to forge anything that would stand out. Once Arn had sufficiently produced a nice steelwork dagger for Alvor and given him some pointers, Alvor provided him with some food, provisions, and directions to Whiterun and the surrounding area.

By midday, Arnsmyth left the small hamlet of Riverwood, despite the commotion over a theft at Camilla and her brother's shop. Hopefully, his arrival in Whiterun would go better than his arrival in Skyrim.


	3. First Foray--Whiterun and after

A First Foray

Whiterun didn't look any different than Arnsmyth remembered it from when he was a boy.

His father had brought him along twice on business transactions here and he remembered it as being quiet, nice, and generally hospitable.

The stone walls of the city and imposing castle of Dragon's Reach on the summit all reinforced the idea none of the outside threats could ever reach there. Situated in the south central area of the middle plains of Skyrim, the city commanded a bird's eye view for miles and miles around.

As he gazed at it from afar while walking, a bellowing of sorts echoed across the plain ahead of him.

As he rounded a bend in the road, he caught sight of a group of warriors besieging a Giant on a small farm next to the road.

As he got closer, he leaned against a stone and paused to watch.

Several beefy Nord men with various weapon styles had hemmed the thing in, carefully measuring their attacks at its legs while avoiding the club the size of a tree that it kept swinging at them.

Even as he watched, he heard a loud battle cry from behind the Giant and caught sight of a female warrior lunging in to hamstring it from behind.

She was...beautiful. Long curly blondish red locks bouncing to and fro as she dodged and weaved in for a blow with one of a pair of longswords. She wore a surprisingly small set of custom leather armor that certainly helped her...uh...mobility. It also showed off quite a lot of her breasts.

Arnsmyth wondered if she did that on purpose to distract opponents. Regardless, her attack failed to make it home as the Giant stumbled quickly to one side and her swords swished through thin air.

They were going about this all the wrong way, Arnsmyth mused as he unslung the bow Alvor had given him before he left Riverwood and knocked an arrow, taking careful aim at the Giant's head.

He grinned slightly, envisioning the killing shot hitting home as he released the arrow and watched it fly...ten feet over the Giant's head and embed itself in the thatched roof of the farmhouse.

Well...that wasn't supposed to happen. Apparently, his archery skills had eroded quite a bit since being on the road these few months.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he took aim again, taking time to get a feel for the power of the bow's draw, this time truly. The arrow singed from his bow and struck with a satisfying thud through the back of the giant's head and out its mouth.

The giant instantly froze and fell over, hitting the ground with a loud rumble as the group of warriors all suddenly turned and glared at him.

Arn threw his hands up in the air questioningly.

"What? you were taking too long!"

"Everything was well in hand, stranger. We would've finished it off soon enough!" growled one of the bearded Nords with dark hair as he sheathed his greatsword.

"Yes, and in the meantime turned this poor farmer's crops to mush as you stagger around in his field forever" Arn retorted, getting a bit peeved that not even his aid seemed welcome anymore.

"We don't care about crops, we care about our kill!" retorted one of the other burly Nords.

"Spoken like a true city guard, completely uncaring about what they muck up in the process" returned Arn.

At that retort, the one that had spoken first marched up and put a finger on Arn's chest.

"We are no lowly city guards. We are the Companions. Warriors without equal and if you weren't new in these parts, your words would be taken as insult worthy of an answer, but we are done here. Think what you will" he sneered before whirling and nodding at the others who all began departing.

Arnsmyth glared his answer at the departing Nord while relaxing the grip on his sword he thought he might have to use for a second there.

As he turned to pick up his pack, he realized the beautiful warrior woman was still standing there looking at him.

"Have you stayed behind to return insult for favor as well?" Arn asked a bit more unpleasantly than he meant to.

She laughed at that and he couldn't help but be disarmed by it. Something about a beautiful woman laughing just seemed to make him forget about how unpleasant things might be.

"You'll have to forgive them. The joy of the hunt is diminished if the kill is taken by another. They'll get over it" she replied.

"So are you their diplomat then of this band of warriors?" asked Arn, biting his tongue to avoid the sarcasm he'd wanted to retort with.

She laughed again.

"Hardly, I am far from doing anything like a diplomat. I do, however, know talent when I see it. The Companions are always welcoming to those who have the strength, courage, and resolve of a true warrior. Should you desire it, come by Jorrvaskr in Whiterun if you wish to join."

"I doubt your friends will be that welcoming."

"I am Aela. Some call me the Huntress. If any question you about being there, tell them I recommended you."

And with that, she whirled and marched off to Whiterun.

Arnsmyth watched her go, her blonde-red locks whirling in the breeze, the dark smooth skin of her shoulders, the slim hourglass figure, muscular legs, and pronounced sway of her hips.

He would definitely have to look into joining these Companions, he thought as he lifted his pack and resumed his walk to Whiterun.

He got exactly the treatment at the gate he expected. Guards stopped, questioned him, and once he announced he was from Helgen and had a message for the Jarl, he was ushered hastily up to Dragon's Reach for an audience with him.

Once the large doors of the Reach had been shut behind him, Arnsmyth took a long look around the hall. He'd thought such an old keep would smell musty and at least show some signs of decay but neither of those things met his senses as he looked around.

A long banquet table sat in the middle just up a flight of stairs from the entrance with several well dressed men and women eating there, probably the town's thanes or family of the Jarl.

As he trod up the stairs, he caught sight of the Jarl himself seated leisurely on a wooden throne, guards flanking either side and a minister looking man standing to the fore.

As he approached, a Dunmer woman emerged from the shadows to the left with her sword drawn, causing Arn to jump back with his hands raised in a gesture of defenselessness.

"I've got my eye on you. You try anything and you'll be dead quicker than you can say 'spy'" she growled at him, her red eyes and slightly raspy voice unnerving him slightly.

"Easy now, all I did was come to make a report. By the Nine, has everyone gone mad in Skyrim?" Arn meant to say the last part to himself but apparently everyone heard it.

"You've obviously not been around the land much lately, then" piped up the Jarl from his chair.

"No, I haven't. I've only just returned after being away many years in Cyrodiil."

"What's your name?"

"Arnsmyth Bulgoar"

"I am Jarl Balgruuf, jarl of Whiterun, thank you for your swift action in coming to report here, wait...Bulgoar...is your father a member of the smith's guild that used to function here oh, gods, that was nigh thirty years ago?" the Jarl pondered, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully.

"Kynsmyth Bulgoar, yes, my father _was_ a smith who came here a number of times. I was just a boy then."

"He's passed on then? I am sorry to hear it."

"We left to do business in Cyrodiil during the Great War and I'm afraid he became another of its casualties."

"As it did to so many. My housecarl, Irileth and I both fought in the Great War and saw the same" he said gesturing to the Dunmer woman who'd threatened Arn when he came in and was still standing only a few feet to his left, sword still in hand.

"Much as I appreciate being able to talk to a fellow veteran, I think we have more pressing matters" Arn remarked.

"Of course, proceed with your report" returned Balgruuf with a wave of his hand.

At length, Arnsmyth felt safe enough to relate every detail of Helgen, including his unlawful detainment and near execution to the stunned court. It didn't stop Irileth or the court wizard Farengar Secret-Fire from interrupting him with questions or accusations of impossibility to his claims.

Once he had finished and was thoroughly annoyed with both Farengar and Irileth, all were quiet as the Jarl frowned his brows in deep thought.

"Send a detachment of guards to Riverwood to increase its defenses. Irileth, send messengers to the other holds and inform them that a dragon has been confirmed and all cautions should be taken. Farengar, you have my permission to proceed with your investigations. Arnsmyth, I have a favor to ask of you."

"What can I do to help?" Arn tried not to cringe, wondering if offering services were a wise thing to do, then again, if he were hired into the Jarl's service, that would certainly give him a legitimate position and probably very good pay.

"You can obviously handle yourself in battle and I have need of someone for a special task. If you succeed, it will go a long way to helping Whiterun and people of Skyrim in general. We need to find out all we can about these Dragons. My wizard, Farengar, has need of someone to retrieve an artifact from a dangerous place. Needless to say, if you succeed, you will be well rewarded. Talk with Farengar for the details" Balgruuf finished with a wave of his hand as Farengar motioned Arn to follow him into a side room which was apparently Farengar's personal laboratory.

After a bit of condescending small talk about how Farengar despised the current civil war and also "brutish mercenaries" in general, he instructed him to fetch what he called the "Dragonstone", a map of sorts, detailing Dragon burial mounds or rites in Bleak Falls Barrow.

Arn nodded assent to everything Farengar told him, trying to shorten the conversation as much as he could, not really wanting to converse anymore than he had to with the aloof wizard.

As he emerged from the wizard's study and made to leave, the Jarl's voiced echoed through the halls once more.

"Wait! one more thing, Arnsmyth, if you would."

Arn turned and walked back.

"Yes?"

Balgruuf sighed as though a bit heavy of heart.

"There is a group of city guards that was sent to deal with a Bandit threat in the area just north of the mountains where you're headed. If you would...could you please look into it? They should have been back days ago."

Arn thought the Jarl looked extremely sad and noticed the sudden look of warning Irileth seemed to be giving the Jarl. There was something else going on here and both of them seemed to be having a conversation of looks about it.

"Is that all there is to it-"

"THAT WILL BE ALL!...dismissed" interrupted Balgruuf.

Arn didn't press the issue.

"Very well" and he turned and departed Dragon's Reach.

He used most of the money he'd gotten on his travels and the small bit of compensation Farengar gave him up front to provision himself with some more arrows, a better steel armor chest piece, and some potions for his journey.

He stayed at the Inn for the night and departed early in the morning, avoiding the merriment of the locals in favor of rest, knowing the days ahead would not be easy.

For a day's journey, he made good time without incident. He spent the night in a cleft of rocks with no fire, opting for safety instead.

The second day, he encountered several wolves, whom he slew and got some nice size pelts from to attach to his pack, for either tanning purposes or to stave out the cold at night.

On the third day, he approached the mountains, expecting to go through a pass directly to Bleak Falls Barrow on the opposite side, and avoiding the extra day's journey around by way of Riverwood.

This was the area he'd been told to search for the lost guard patrol. He sat hunched on a rocky outcropping overlooking the plains that ran up to the base of the mountains, occasional trees dotting the landscape here and there, and a stream winding its way across the plain.

He surveyed carefully for any sign of human activity when a flash of movement caught his eye off and far away to his left.

Through the brush and occasional trees at the edge of the mountains, he caught sight of something he didn't believe at first.

A beautiful woman, stark naked, ran for her life, dodging and weaving through the vegetation, her shoulder length dark hair flying in all directions.

Arnsmyth soon saw the reason, after a few moments he caught glimpses of at least five different men chasing behind her.

Was she a forsworn? Couldn't be, no paint markings that he could tell from this distance and this was too far east for their usual haunts. Though she might be a captive, transplanted from the western areas for someone's twisted pleasure.

He slowly edged off his perch and tried to make his way as stealthily as possible toward where she was heading.

He saw her stop for a moment, breasts heaving, crouch down and take stock for a moment before ducking behind a bush as one of her pursuers emerged nearly where she had just been.

With a club drawn, he slowly moved around the area, looking for tracks on the ground until he had his back turned to where the woman was hiding. She then launched herself from her hiding place, kicking the man's legs out from behind and elbowing him in the back of the head.

Before her assailant had even hit the ground, she'd grabbed his club and turned to face two more of them that had emerged and were hollering for the others. One of them had a club but the other had a longsword.

Arn was way too far away to be able to hear anything they said and continued sneaking his way forward to figure out just who these people were, though he had a hunch he knew what this was and had already knotched an arrow in his bow.

As the naked woman squared off against the two who began to circle her, they exchanged blows, but it was never really going to be much contest. Even as she tried to defend herself, a third attacker emerged behind her and brought a mace down right between her shoulder blades, crushing her to the ground in the mud at the banks of the stream.

Arn began to pick up the pace of his approach. He was still out of bow range.

The three men taunted and spit on the woman before kicking her once or twice as she tried to get up. Then two of them grabbed her by the arms and forced her face into the mud while the third pulled her arse up on her knees and began unbuckling his breeches.

Yes, Arn knew exactly what this was and began running full tilt, his blood going cold with rage as he closed distance.

By now the man had removed his breeches and tossed them aside, his pale buttocks a stark contrast to the mud and armor of the scene around him.

Sprinting now, Arn took stock and came sliding to a halt on his knees, holding his breath and taking careful aim. He was now close enough to hear the sounds of their laughter and bantering with the poor woman.

He unleashed his first arrow, it's flight arced truly, finding its mark in the man's right buttock, causing him to scream and lurch over forward and sideways awkwardly as the other two turned to face the new threat, but a second arrow was on its way already, and barely had they turned when it impaled the one holding the woman's right arm down through his eye socket, immediately slumping over.

By now, two more men had arrived on the scene, saw what happened and charged where Arnsmyth was kneeling on the opposite side of the stream.

Fools, he thought, downing the two with successive arrows as they got slowed down trying to trudge through the water. The third was making his way up the bank.

Arnsmyth could have downed him with another arrow, but was furious at what he saw. He'd kill this one in a more personal way, he thought.

Dropping his bow, he drew sword and shield as the man came up charging with only a longsword.

Arn swatted the man's pathetic sword strikes aside repeatedly with either his sword or shield. The man began to tire quickly and realized he was overmatched with no backup. Pausing, he turned to flee but Arn hamstringed him from behind with a slice across his legs.

He screeched and fell face first to the ground, dropping his sword and clutching at his legs.

Panicking, the man tried to crawl using his arms to propel him back toward the stream.

Arn simply kicked the sword away and crouched down next to him and sliced across the man's biceps on both arms.

He screamed again and looked up with terrified eyes at Arn who simply crouched and grinned wickedly at him.

"Aw, what's the matter, don't like feeling helpless?"

The bandit simply muttered incoherently in response.

"If you want this to end quickly, you'll tell me everything I want to know"

The Bandit simply stared at him in response.

"How many more of your bandit brethren are there and where are they at?"

When the bandit didn't respond, Arn simply prodded the cut hamstrings with his sword.

"AAAAAHHHH-in the cave-the gray wilderness cave-up on the mountain pass!"

"and how many?"

"D-D-Dozens...you won't get away-there are too many!"

Arn grabbed the immobile man and dragged him to a certain spot on the stream bank.

"The plan was never to get away" sneered Arn "How many times did you rape that woman?"

"I-I-I-didn't"

"HOW MANY TIMES!?"

"I-I-I don't know..."

"Well, maybe there'll be at least one slaughter fish in this pool for every time you did!" snarled Arn, and before the man could react to what he perceived was coming, Arn sliced him again several times across the torso and shoved him into the deeper part of the stream.

It didn't take long. Slaughter fish were ravenous once they got the smell of blood in their nostrils. Several shadows emerged and closed on the cloud of red that was the bandit.

Arnsmyth turned and strode away from the gargled screams as the water boiled red.

He scanned the area quickly, knowing he needed to get the woman to safety before anymore bandits investigated their fellows' disappearance.

He turned the woman over and she coughed up blood and mud as she struggled feebly against him, one eye swollen shut and the other covered in mud.

Even as she did so, he felt her spasm and pass out, going limp in his grasp as he tried to extract her from the mud. She was covered mostly in mud by now, with a creamy blotch of smooth skin peeking out here or there and nasty swelling dotting here or there.

He picked her up and moved her to the faster running part of the stream. Slaughter fish didn't like fast current, though if they got the smell of blood, all bets might be off.

He crouched down, cradling her in his lap as he used the current and free hand to wipe the mud off so he'd be able to figure out just how bad her injuries were.

Unfortunately, as he cleaned off the mud to reveal more of her, it was difficult for him to concentrate. She was stunningly beautiful. Despite the swollenness from her injuries, he could tell she had soft symmetrical facial features, Nordish with maybe some Imperial in her blood.

She had shoulder length black hair which he took care to keep out of her face and rinse the dirt and grime out. The harder part was cleaning the rest of her body.

He hadn't really seen any details from a distance and when covered in mud and grime, it hadn't been so distracting, but now as more of it was revealed, he had to grit his teeth and focus.

She had large breasts, full and supple, a trim, muscular abdomen, and wide flared hips coming down to curvy muscular legs. By the Nine, she could be Dibella personified, he thought as he closed his eyes, forcing his body to obey him despite what his loins were telling him.

No wonder the bandits had kept her captive, he thought sadly. He was brought back to the reality of the situation as he uncovered the extent of her injuries.

The bruising about her face was recent, and there were probably internal injuries from the mace blow, but what bothered him more was the nasty swollenness and bleeding of her womanhood, pelvic region and bruising on her knees.

Oh they would pay for this...and soon, but for now he needed to find shelter as night was coming on.

About an hour later once he'd finished cleaning her, he constructed a wicket of branches to lay her on, wrapping her in furs and tying it all together.

He managed to find a cave on the plains where he'd come from, killed the lone bear sleeping inside and began setting up camp.

He got a fire going, blocked the opening with brush he'd collected as best he could and began applying the healing potions and liniments to her injuries as best he could.

Once he'd done that, he sat on his knees and slowly held out his hand, summoning his knowledge of restoration magic he'd picked up over the years.

He was hardly a mage, but he had some knowledge of magicka and over the years found that as a warrior, healing potions were not always readily available. So whenever he could, he'd gotten training in Restoration.

A healing spell here or a regenerative spell there, as he travelled around he'd met many people who'd been able to teach him a thing or two. Now he applied all that he'd learned to heal whatever he could for this poor woman.

A bluish light began to glow between his hands and her skin as he focused his willpower into regeneration and healing, whispering the words he knew repeatedly.

He slowly moved the glowing blue aura over each area of her body in case there were something internal he couldn't sense. He was relieved to see the swelling going down, cuts mending themselves slowly, the bleeding ceased, and her breathing, which had been erratic and cough filled grew calm and peaceful, breasts softly rising and falling.

Arnsmyth felt ecstatic she would pull through and wrapped her back up in the furs and added his own magically enchanted elk pelt he'd gotten as a steal from Belethor who'd not known it was enchanted against the cold.

As a precaution, he tied the woman back down to the wicket in case she woke and panicked. She had no idea who he was or what he'd done, and it wouldn't do to have her wake in the middle of the night attacking him.

After all that magicka expense, Arn did feel more exhausted than he'd been in awhile, but it was worth it. He huddled close to the dying embers of the fire and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Bears, Bandits, and Bleak Falls Barrow

Taming the Storm-Bears, Bandits, and Bleak Falls Barrow

Arnsmyth was awakened by moans. Shooting up from his fetal position by the coals of the fire with sword at the ready, he checked his surroundings to be sure there were no intruders.

The barrier at the cave entrance was still securely in place along with the noise trap he'd set. Turning he saw the moans coming from the bundled woman.

She tossed and turned her head, her thrashing becoming more and more violent.

He moved to her and tried to hold her still, whispering to her it would be alright, that everything was fine now. It seemed to have an effect on her, even though she still wasn't conscious.

The thrashing died down, but she still moaned occasionally. Arn wondered what he could do, feeling saddened at what she must be reliving in her mind.

Then it occurred to him, if he found the right plants, he could make a sleeping poultice that would allow her to sleep more peacefully. So arming himself again, he exited the cave, replaced the defenses and set off scouting for certain plants he knew would do the trick.

He had to keep his head about him though, the bodies of the bandits were gone and he knew there were a lot more to be reckoned with.

At length, after about an hour of searching in the fog of early morning light, he found several plants by a rotten tree that would suffice.

Taking his time to harvest every one of them, a light crunch of twigs behind him signaled his mistake in not watching out enough and he rolled to his left just in time for a battleaxe to cleave the air where he'd been.

He got his shield up just in time as he came up in a crouch to block the second blow, and launched a kick out that caught the approaching bandit off guard and stumble back.

This gave Arn time to draw sword and shield properly and advance on his would-be murderer.

"Who the rutting blazes might you be?" the man sneered as he neared Arn, more carefully this time.

"Just the last person you'll see alive"

The bandit charged with axe raised and Arn stepped in, cutting off the man's downswing with the edge of his shield on the backs of his elbows, pining the man's axe over his head, and ran the shocked bandit through the throat with his longsword.

As the man lay gurgling his last breath, Arn made quick work of getting anything useful off him, getting his plants and herbs, and quickly leaving before anymore showed up.

Back at the cave, he quickly mixed and ground up the herbs and plants using smooth stones he'd gotten from the stream banks, mixed them in some water and got the woman to drink it as best he could.

He waited awhile, watching her intently to see it take effect. After about an hour, she stopped any moans or sounds and there was no more thrashing at all, just peaceful breathing again.

Arnsmyth felt like he'd been holding his breath in the whole time and he let out a huge sigh of relief.

Then a whole new set of problems dawned on him. He had absolutely nothing for her to wear. He had only the clothes on his back.

He still had no idea who she was or where she was from. There was still the lost guard patrol to look for, though Arn was pretty sure the bandits were to answer for that.

Speaking of bandits, there were still many more who could happen upon his shelter at any time the longer he remained there and he still owed them all a reckoning, but it wasn't something he could do if they trapped him here.

He briefly and tiredly contemplated just taking the woman to Riverwood and leaving her there to be taken care of so he could get on with the Jarl's quest, but he immediately revolted at the idea of letting the bandits responsible for what was done to this woman live.

The vision of his beloved Desarra impaled naked on an unholy altar in a clearing came back to his mind unbidden and he clenched his fists in rage. This would not stand.

He looked over at the sleeping woman again and saw a lone tear had escaped her eye and trailed down the side of her cheek. It almost made him cry as he gently wiped it away.

He rose to his feet determined. He would get no help from anyone. Whiterun had already sent people. Riverwood feared for a dragon attack.

He wished he'd had the time to look up the Companions when he'd been back in Whiterun. Maybe they could have helped in some fashion, though given the cold reception he would probably have been given, he doubted they would jump at the chance to tag along with some new sot they didn't like on some quest they weren't getting paid for.

No, if this was going to happen, he would have to make it so. Arming himself completely for battle, he set out for this Graystone Cave the bandit had mentioned.

It didn't take him long. He reconnoitered for only about two hours before finding it. A table sat out front of a double set of doors back into the mountains, and Arn counted six bandits at the table and two more meandering about the immediate area.

No telling how many more were inside. The bandit said dozens but he may have been exaggerating, or maybe not, if there were enough of them to overpower a city guard patrol.

He needed some way to even the odds..something else, he pondered, looking around. Then an idea occurred to him and he sneaked off further into the pass.

It took him a bit longer to find what he was looking for, but as midday was nearing he found a large cave and crept very carefully in, looking to see if it was inhabited and froze as his heart leaped into his throat.

The large outline of a massive bear lay curled on the floor sleeping soundly not thirty feet from him inside. Arn had hoped for a bear like the one he'd killed the other day, but this one was far bigger, dark colored with a silver spray of color across the hump of its back.

It must be close to fifteen feet tall and just as long, thought Arn. This must be an elder bear, a breed he had only heard about and most people thought were extinct except in the remotest and wildest areas.

Oh yes, this would do nicely, thought Arn, if he survived it.

Very carefully, he crept back out of the cave and back to the bandit's encampment.

He waited for dusk to fall and planned his attack.

The first two bandits fell without their fellow's knowledge, one whittling away on a stick off to the side, the other stood around the bend pissing on a tree. They both got arrows through their brains before they knew they were in any danger.

Arn crept closer to the group at the table, several of them passed out drunk.

He arrowed one of the sleeping drunks through neck, pinning him to the table, but because he never moved, none of the others could figure out what happened. They just looked all around, puzzled at the sudden noise but unsure what it meant or where it was from.

When Arn nailed the second, his shot was less accurate, hitting the man in the shoulder instead of the face and he fell backward with a scream. Well, no more stealth.

Arnsmyth readied shield and sword and charged, jumping off the overhang where the doors were and landed on the table, taking another bandit's head off who'd been too shocked to do anything but stand there staring.

Of the remaining three, one of them was too drunk to do much and staggered around toward the door while the other two went for their weapons.

Arn charged the two, keeping his shield up and a good thing he did too because just as he closed on them, an arrow pinged off his shield from the direction of the doorway.

Another bandit must have emerged armed with a bow. He needed to make quick work of these two or he was done.

Arn slashed down on the torso of the second who was too late getting his weapon up while blocking the blow of the first's great sword with his shield. Arn waited for him to raise for a strike again and kicked him, knocking him off balance and creating an opening for Arn to run him through.

Another arrow whizzed by his head.

Turning, he crouched down, set his sword on the ground and drew a dagger from his belt and hurled it at the bandit knocking another arrow.

It caused the man to panic and he dived to the side to avoid it. When he got to his feet again to knock the arrow, Arn was already almost on him. He never had time to get the arrow back before Arn's longsword cleaved an arm off at the shoulder and he finished him off with a thrust through the chest.

Arnsmyth marched to the door and finished off the staggering drunk who still hadn't been able to get the door open.

Then he began removing the pieces of heavy armor that would slow him down so that he could put the next phase of his plan into action.

When he was down to his leather jerkin and his weapons, he crept inside the bandits' cave.

It was not surprisingly, poorly lit and bits of bone and food were tossed here and there. Obviously, housekeeping was not one of their priorities.

He crept on ahead, bow drawn with arrow knocked, until he came to a wooden platform looking out onto a den area.

There were several tables piled with food and mead attended by some twenty bandits either passed out or stuffing their faces. In the back end of the room, he could make out several cages, but couldn't see what or who was in them. There were several passages off further into the mountain and there was no way to get to them without being spotted.

As he observed all this, a large Nord with long blonde hair emerged from one of the passages, dragging a stumbling naked Bosmer woman behind him.

They ascended up to another wooden platform overlooking the tables opposite where Arnsmyth was crouching.

At the sight, all the bandits at the tables roared in delight to which the Nord bellowed in response.

"WHO'S MOUNTAINS ARE THESE?!" he yelled.

"JORGUND STORMTAMER'S!" came the reply from the floor.

"WHO OWNS THE ROAD?"

"STORMTAMERS!"

"WHO'S GOING TO OWN WHITERUN?"

"STORMTAMERS!"

"WHO CAN TAME THE WOMEN?"

"STORMTAMERS!"

"WHO WANTS TO WATCH ME TAME THIS ONE?"

"YEAH!"

"MAYBE SHE'LL TELL US WHERE HER NOT SO LITTLE FRIEND RAN OFF TO...AFTER ALL, WE WEREN'T DONE TAMING HER EITHER!" sneered the self proclaimed Jorgund Stormtamer as he thrust his pelvis against the poor bosmer woman's arse as he pushed her against the railing he stood behind.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Arn had heard enough. He let fly with his arrow, but it didn't hit quite where he wanted it to.

He'd aimed to nail Stormtamer in the head and he did, but it went through his cheeks, immediately silencing him, but not killing him.

"YOU WANT TO KNOW WHERE SHE'S AT? I TOOK HER FOR MYSELF! YOU SKEEVER RUTTING INBREDS!" Arn yelled, knocking another arrow and hitting a bandit through the back as he retreated back towards the door, the room erupting in commotion as the tables emptied themselves of bandits and Stormtamer gargled a curse at him.

Arnsmyth reached the doors just in time. As he passed through and went to close them, an arrow stuck fast where he'd just been.

Sprinting past the bodies of the previously slain bandits he made straight for the bear cave. He had made several marks on the trail. So it wasn't hard to find in the fading light.

He made sure not to go too fast. He needed them to follow. He would go so far, then duck behind something to peer back and there were always at least several who were pretty fleet of foot and were staying on his trail pretty good, hollering to the others lagging behind where Arn was at.

He finally made it to the cave and slowed down, creeping inside. Making sure he heard them coming, slipped behind some stalagmites on the side and watched the opening, readying his bow with an arrow.

Within a few minutes, the fast ones had arrived at the opening, but in the fading light couldn't see in. So after conversing among themselves for a bit, they waited for the slow ones to catch up so they could go in with overwhelming force.

Arnsmyth smiled to himself, this was working out even better than he thought it would. He could count at least a dozen, probably a few more by the entrance.

As they shouted insults and curses into the cave, the bear began to stir.

Arn waited until they were a good ten feet inside the mouth of the cave, then released his shot into the shoulder of the bear.

The roar of anger echoed around the walls of the cave and made Arn cover his ears.

The next sound was a rush of air and padded feet, then the screams of the bandits, then the sickening crunch of bone and flesh tearing amidst more screams.

The elder Bear continued bellowing as the bandits tried in vain to either escape or kill it, both futile as it tore into them.

Eventually after a minute of carnage, the beast moved away from the mouth of the cave to chase down some of the stragglers who were running away.

This gave Arn time to sneak out and head back around toward the Bandit's cave. He made sure to take the long way around as he didn't want the bear to pick up his scent if he were anywhere near the bandits trying to run back.

After arriving and re-equipping himself in his heavy armor pieces, he entered the Bandit's Cave again and slowly made his way back down.

Between everything he'd done earlier and finishing off a few stragglers near the cave on his way back, Arn was completely out of arrows, so he'd have to do this the hard way.

Brandishing sword and shield, he crept back to the large room he'd been at before, largely empty this time except for two sleeping bandits and another woman in bandit garb cleaning up.

Leaping off the platform, he landed on a table, going down to one knee and sliding a ways down, sending food and dishes flying before stabbing down and finishing one of the sleeping ones.

The woman screamed and immediately began yelling for reinforcements. She didn't get out much more as Arn charged and finished her with a stab as she stared at him in shock, crumpling before him.

He turned and avoided a clumsy mace blow from the other previously sleeping one, kicked the mace aside and ran him through.

He crept further in, encountering two more men coming to the screams of the woman he'd just cut down. Dispatching those two, who strangely answered a call for help unarmed, he moved into what must be the back end of the cave, a creek running through the bottom with stairs that ascended up to rocky platforms on either side.

No point in sneaking now. The wooden stairs would creak for sure and give him away. So he just sauntered up them like he belonged there.

At the top he looked to one side and saw a large straw stuffed mat and pillows which must have passed for a bed with the naked Bosmer woman he'd seen before laying face down on it not moving.

Just off to the side, Jorgund Stormtamer sat half clothed messing with the arrow wound on his mouth, trying to apply some sort of potion to it apparently.

"THIS ISN'T WORKING! I TOLD YOU TO-" he stopped short, noticing Arn standing there instead of whoever he expected.

"Guess I get to pay you back for this, personally" he rasped, pointing at his cheeks.

"Oh, now you want to actually fight, too bad you waited til all your men were dead and your women gone"

"I AM THE STORMTAMER!" he bellowed, lifting a great axe and charging Arnsmyth who stood at the ready.

Stormtamer was much larger than any of the other bandit opponents Arn had faced. He was a full head taller than Arn, mostly muscle, and knew how to use that Great Axe.

Arn realized at the last second the force of one of his Great Axe blows might break his shield or at least permanently damage his guard arm, and side stepped just enough that it was a glancing blow, but it still took a slice out of his shield.

Not good.

Stormtamer was also quick enough to avoid Arn's reposte with the handle of his Axe, pushing Arn back and coming in for another power attack.

Arnsmyth rolled to the side, the Axe thudding against the stone floor and arced his sword around, gashing Stormtamer's right leg.

He tried rolling again, but this time as Stormtamer came around he seemed to predict it, and brought his Axe down right on Arn who only managed to get his shield up just in time, but the Axe still cleaved into the shield and Arn had it ripped off his arm as Stormtamer lifted his Axe back up.

"Raaaagh!" charged Stormtamer as he came at him again, this time Arn only had his longsword to defend himself with, but by now he was in the position he wanted, at the edge of the platform.

He waited, then timed his lunge inside of Stormtamer's swing arc, and lowered his center of gravity, stabbing into the large Nord's rib cage and pushing him past Arn...and tumbling over the edge in a gargled yell.

There was a thud and tell tale crunch of bone as Stormtamer landed twelve feet down either head or neck first.

Arnsmyth turned to the Bosmer woman who had been awake and alert the whole time, just apparently too scared to do anything else. She stared at him with wide uncertain eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not one of them" replied Arn, sheathing his sword.

"But...the-the-rest of them-"

"Are all dead or will soon be" answered Arn as he turned to a dresser and began removing some clothing he thought would fit her. Keeping his back turned, he tossed her the clothing and waited as she snatched it up quickly and dressed in them.

"Now, there's something I think we need to finish" he said, motioning for her to follow him as he went back around and down the stairs. She ran and clutched at his arm, not wanting to let go or stray far from him, her eyes growing wide again as they came to the foot of the stairs to find Stormtamer's broken body laying there.

He was splayed in an unnatural position, paralyzed, but still alive as they could see his eyes darting back and forth to them but unable to speak.

"Figured you'd suffered enough at his hands, you'd want to do the honors" he replied, handing her his longsword.

At first she just stared at it, then at Stormtamer. After a few seconds she tentatively took the blade and approached him, still clinging to Arn with her other hand.

"Filth! You are not even worthy to worship Baan Dar!" and with that, she screamed and brought the sword down, nearly cutting his head off, but it took another couple of angry hacks for her to finish it, then she handed the sword back to Arn and took a deep breath, a couple tears coming out and she tried to calm herself down.

"I am called Lareneth. I am most grateful for your aid. If there is any way I can repay this kindness-"

Arn waved his hand to interrupt her speech.

"Don't start with that. It's not kindness if I expect payment, is it?"

"I don't...understand...you do not wish for anything?"

"I have a special place of hatred in my heart for men who defile women in body or spirit...It is the right thing to do" Arn said, scooping up Stormtamer's head and bagging it.

"Do you perchance know what happened to my fellowprisoner, a Nord woman with dark hair, very beautiful...she tried to escape the day before yesterday...I...never heard anything."

"Don't worry, she's safe. I've got her resting up with healing potions nearby"

"OH! Thank Auri-El!" she exclaimed, clasping his hands in hers "Please, be careful with her good stranger. I thought I was enduring Oblivion itself, but when they captured her...oh...it was so much worse for her. She would even volunteer herself in the hopes they would spare me" she started to choke up.

Arnsmyth grimaced at that, though he didn't intend to. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

"It's all over" was about all he could think of offering in the way of comfort. After he'd collected whatever he could use from the area, they walked back to the main room.

Lareneth showed him the pit in the back where they threw the bodies of their victims. Arn found six sets of Whiterun guard armor, but there were only five fresh corpses in the pit. He turned to Lareneth.

"Was the other woman a guard from Whiterun?"

"Yes, she was brought in with that armor on"

"Guess I should get it back for her" he murmured, rummaging through until he found what obviously must be hers based on the room allowed in the chest for her large breasts.

While he was searching around, Lareneth had gotten a pack full of provisions for herself and armed herself with a dagger, bow, and arrows.

He awkwardly wondered how to tell her it would be safer for her to stay traveling with him.

"Not to tell you what to do or anything...but the roads are still perilous, especially for a lone young woman"

"This nest of Bandits ruled this area. Without them, the roads are much safer. My people are the people of the woods. I will stay in the woods. There I will be safe" she said determinedly adjusting her outfit.

"Um...uh...Ok, I guess" puzzled Arn

She turned to leave but stopped at the top of the platform.

"What is your name, kind stranger, that I may know who to thank Auri-El for"

"Arnsmyth Bulgoar" he replied, feeling more awkward by the second.

"Then farewell, and if you ever need aid from my people, may the grace of Auri-El make it so" and then she was gone.

"Ok...sure thing" puzzled Arn, not knowing at all what any of that meant.

Loading up with as much provisions as he could carry, he made his way back to the cave and the woman he'd left sleeping.

As he shoved aside the brush and avoided his own sound trap, he plopped the provisions bags down along with the guard armor along with his own pack, looking over to see the fully awake woman staring daggers at him.

"YOU RUTTING PIECE OF MUDCRAB SOT! LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!" she yelled at him.

It then dawned on Arn he had left her tied down to the wicket covered only in the blankets.

_Arn you idiot. You didn't even untie her before you left._

He stood there stunned for a moment before she yelled the same phrase louder at him again.

"Who are you!? Why did you bring me here?! What did you do to me?!" she rattled off in quick succession to him as he panickedly tried to get all the guard armor out of the stuff he'd returned with to give to her.

"Now, now, I'm a friend. I killed the bandits who were chasing you and brought you here to heal up"

"Oh, a likely story...you're just another one of them and probably brought me here to have me to yourself until the others find out"

She looked conflicted as if unsure she should lobby for a different outcome than the one she thought she was in.

Arn walked over and began untying the straps on the wicket to free her.

"If you're referring to..uh..what was his name..uh...Stormtamer, was it? he won't be bothering anyone ever again" he said, untying the last knot and returning to the supplies.

She was glaring death at him again as he looked up, but there was something in her eyes...a spark of hope maybe.

"Don't believe me?" he grinned slightly "See for yourself" he said, pulling the head out and tossing it across the room for her to see.

She stared at the head for a moment, a range of emotions crossing her pretty features as she looked at it. Then suddenly she sprang up from her blankets still naked, ran across the space, grabbed the steel longsword he'd brought for her, ran back, and viciously began cleaving the head with her sword repeatedly, screaming angrily with each strike.

Arnsmyth allowed her to take out her feelings on it for awhile, then, when it became obvious she was tiring and still not recovered completely he grabbed her by the shoulders as she sank to her knees, bits of blood splattered on her here and there, her shoulders shaking slightly as she willed herself not to weep.

"They're all gone. I made sure of that"

She shrunk away from him back into the covers, clutching them about her protectively.

"Impossible. You're just one man. There were dozens of them"

"True, there _were_. However, I am a veteran of the Great War and have spent my whole life as a sword for hire or bladesman in a Cyrodiliic Guild. I've been an archer since I was a small lad and only gotten better with years. I know my way in a fight" he stated with utter confidence.

"But you couldn't take on that many alone...no one could"

"You're right. That's why I enlisted the aid of a sleeping elder Bear to even the odds a bit" he grinned, preparing some things from the pack to make a meal.

They were silent for awhile, Arnsmyth preparing supper and the woman sitting huddled in the blankets staring at him in disbelief.

"If you want, you can wash up and dress, I got your Whiterun armor back" he motioned to the armor.

"I can never wear that again..." she sighed, looking distant.

"Why not?"

"Obviously you've never been a woman city guard"

"No, but-"

"Once people learn what happened to me, I'll be seen for the failure I am and be sent away"

"Guards have been captured before and returned to service"

"But not women who get violated repeatedly!"

Arn was silent. He began to understand. There had always been this strange variance in how women were treated in Skyrim. On one hand they were to aspire to be proud warrior women like Freida Oaken-wand, yet they were never allowed any defeats or setbacks that male Nord heroes often had.

Women were allowed to be Housecarls but only if they were master combatants or voluptuous beauties that really only served as concubines for their Jarls or Thanes.

It was all or nothing. Fair or not. If a woman was ravaged, she was never told outright but often treated as though she was second class to others.

He looked up to see her staring wistfully at her armor.

"But what if no one ever found out what happened?" he ventured.

She turned to stare at him.

"What do you mean?"

"You go back to the Jarl and report the death of all the bandits. You tell him your group was ambushed and you fought valiantly but one by one your comrades fell. You retreat to figure out what to do, waging hit and run strikes against whatever lone bandits you can find until I show up and help you get the rest. No one can say it didn't happen that way."

"But..honor dictates that-"

"What was done to you was not honorable and you said yourself the way it would be received would not be honorably"

She went back to staring off into space, conflicting emotions clouding her face.

Arn walked over and sat down in front of her, venturing to lift her chin with one hand, looking her in the eye.

"Don't do this to yourself. No matter what happened in that cave, you can still be whoever you wish to be. You can never let someone else take that away from you. I saw you take the fight to them even though you were injured, naked, lost and afraid. I can see that fiery spark in you trying to come back, but you're letting doubt cloud it out. Don't let the dead or dispassionate rule your mind or heart" Arn finished, but even as he did, he felt a pang, knowing the words he spoke applied to himself as well.

He grimaced slightly, the memories flooding back, and he turned to return to his preparations.

There was silence for awhile, then he heard the rustling and clanking of her donning her armor and he smiled, glad she was making the right choice.

"What is your name?" she said behind him, sounding much more confident now.

"Arnsmyth Bulgoar" he said, standing and for some reason, felt like they were meeting for the first time, expecting her to state her name in turn.

"So..you saw me naked? washed me in the river without a stitch of clothing on?"

"Uh...well, yes, I didn't-"

CRACK, she slapped him hard across the face

"By the Nine! What was that for?" he exclaimed, grabbing his chin, smarting from the sting.

She huffed and put her hands on her hips.

"I don't know. I just made me feel better that I could do something about it again."

Arnsmyth simply groaned, but before he could come up with a sarcastic retort befitting the occasion, the woman grabbed him with both hands on the back of his head and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Her soft, warm lips immediately chased all rational thoughts from his mind as he felt their armor clink together as they closed distance and she continued kissing him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, exploring and her hands caressing the short hair on his neck and back of his head.

Then she pulled back, straightening her armor and brushing her hair back, breathing heavily as he stood there in a daze, wondering if he'd daydreamed the whole thing.

"Well...What was that for?" he stuttered out, wide eyed.

"I just...wanted to say thank you" she stuttered as well, then marched passed him, picked up a cloak and some of the provisions, rolled them up, waved at him, and marched out of the cave.

Arnsmyth slumped to the ground, running his fingers over his lips, feeling the warmth and moisture still lingering there from her kiss, but was interrupted by the smoking burn smell of his vegetable stew burning on the fire.

As he attempted to remove it, suddenly it occurred to him that he still didn't know her name at all! He grimaced in pain yet again as he burned himself.

Well, that's just great.

Two days later, Arnsmyth wondered why the Jarl had called clearing out Bleak Falls Barrow a "dangerous assignment".

Besides a few inept bandits at the entrance, all he really had to deal with was about a dozen shambling draugr spread out over the whole barrow, an old crippled spider and some amateur mage who thought running away from him and calling him a sucker after he'd freed him was a good idea.

He'd found his corpse further down with two draugr standing over it.

Draugr certainly were unsettling looking, like reanimated mummies with glowing blue eyes. But while they looked horrific, they weren't actually very threatening. Most wore no armor, weren't armed with any significant weapons, and had no skill with what they were using.

They largely just shambled at you and attacked until you killed them or more of them showed up and overwhelmed you. Having spent a lot of time in Aeyleid ruins for many years, Arnsmyth had fought numerous skeletons and spectres before, so Draugr were nothing that new or fearsome.

Having retrieved this strange golden claw from the fallen mage, Arn solved the puzzle that got him into the final sanctum. Well, after taking on a Bandit stronghold alone, this felt like any milkdrinking sot could do it.

He strode forward into the final chamber, taking stock of his surroundings, the writings on the wall feeling familiar for some reason.

As he was looking around, the coffin in front of him popped open and a draugr rose to look at him.

Not really surprising, but this one was faster and fiercer for some reason, forcing Arn on the defensive for a bit before he was able to sucker it into overcomitting on a strike and he cleaved an arm off before finishing it off.

Picking up the Nordic longsword, he noted the tell tale runes of enchantment on it along with a faint blue glow.

It would make a good backup he thought, finding a spot to get it in his pack, then made his way forward into the main area of the sanctum.

There on a pedestal was the Dragonstone. He eyed it warily for a moment then moved around behind it, reached out and quickly snatched it and leaned back as darts and arrows shot back and forth across the space where his hand had been.

As he looked at the Dragonstone, he heard a strange rushing noise, like wind.

He looked all around but saw no one and no openings out for wind to be coming from, then he noted the large concave stone wall behind him.

He then realized the sound got louder the closer he got to the wall. Ordinarily, Arnsmyth would have gotten out of there right away. No telling what sort of curse or magic ward he may be tampering with, but for some inexplicable reason he felt like knew this while at the same time didn't know it.

Curiosity was the number one thing that often got adventurers killed but Arn ignored his common sense screaming at him to get away from it. Getting closer step by step.

It seemed so...familiar...like he'd seen it somewhere else or something, like he should know it.

When he was only several feet from the wall, he felt something take hold of him and stood stock still as images and words raced through his mind like the wind and when he could move again the idea of Unrelenting Force seemed pounded into his brain.

He looked up at the wall and one symbol seemed to stand out. Somehow he knew that symbol meant Unrelenting Force. He didn't know how he knew it or why. He just knew it all of a sudden.

Disturbed by what had just transpired, he packed away the Dragonstone and made his way back to Whiterun as hastily as possible.

Maybe Farengar knew something about what happened to him.


	5. An Unexpected Calling: The First Dragon

An Unexpected Calling: The First Dragon

"HAIL! IT'S THE JARL'S MAN!" came the thunderous greeting from the guards at Whiterun as Arnsmyth Bulgoar approached the gate.

"Yes...uh...Hail to you too" Arn mumbled out as the gates opened and a half dozen eager city guards converged on him, congratulating him on a legendary victory over the bandits, and asking for stories and details.

Arnsmyth surmised the woman guard had made it back and stuck to the story he'd instructed her to use.

As he got clapped on the back and bombarded with questions he wasn't sure where to start and how much to say since he wasn't sure what details the woman might have given, a loud voice overhead silenced them all.

"I'll escort him to the Jarl immediately!"

Arn looked up to see Irileth descending the ramparts. He fell into step behind her, leaving the guards gawking after them as they made their way up to Dragon's Reach.

The awkward silence of the ascent through the town was broken as Irileth turned at the Castle's door.

"Did you get the Dragonstone?"

"Aye"

"Good, take it to Farengar immediately then return to make a full report to the Jarl."

Arn simply nodded, a little rankled at her gruff demeanor.

Farengar wasn't alone when Arnsmyth entered. There was a cloaked woman, shrouded in a leather hood and cloaked to their eyes to avoid recognition.

Cloak and dagger stuff wasn't typical of wizards, then again maybe that was another thing that had changed in Skyrim in Arnsmyth's absence.

Both Farengar and the cloaked woman immediately grew silent when Arn entered, Farengar immediately approaching him and giddily accepting the Dragonstone when Arnsmyth presented it.

"Yes...yes...this is exactly what we needed!" Farengar exclaimed as he turned it over and over again in his hand, taking in every detail "Well! You've certainly proven you're above the usual lot of mercenary brutes-"

The cloaked figure cleared her throat loudly, interrupting Farengar, who returned to whisper back and forth with her.

Arn was catching bits and pieces of what they said, when he suddenly placed that annoyed whisper of the woman..._Delphine_? the woman he'd rutted with in the Inn right after Helgen?

He leaned against one of the castle beams with his arms crossed, smirking.

_My, my, she did get around. So she was secretly some agent for this wizard...or maybe the Jarl. Neither made much sense, since you'd get farther with the official sanction of either than you'd get with none at all._

Briefly, the images of her lying naked in his bed, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as he ploughed into her repeatedly flashed across his mind but were replaced just as quickly by more recent events.

The beautiful guard woman running naked through the woods, slaying the bandits, tending the woman's wounds...running his hands over her body-

Arn realized suddenly Farengar and Delphine had finished their discussion and she had collected some things after a short farewell to Farengar who immediately went back to looking at the Dragonstone.

He realized Delphine had never addressed him and perhaps didn't even realize he was standing there. As she passed by to the doorway, Arn reached down and patted her left buttock quickly, making her whirl on him.

Arn was rewarded with seeing her angry eyes widen in shock and recognition and the balled fist that was meant to punch him receded back to her side as he winked knowingly at her.

She didn't respond at all. If anything, she left even more hurriedly without a word.

Now alone with Farengar, Arnsmyth tried to ask about his strange experience in Bleak Falls Barrow near the stone wall, but was interrupted by the court courier at the door.

"The Jarl's Court is summoned!"

They filed back in the next room as the Jarl sat in his chair receiving a report from a shaken guardsman.

Arn caught the gist of it as he arrived. Apparently a dragon had been sighted in the vicinity of the western watchtower.

No sooner had the guard finished talking, than the Jarl began issuing orders.

"Irileth! take a group of Guards and reinforce the men already there and deal with this. Arnsmyth Bulgoar, I am already in your debt for your service, but you have proven yourself to be a capable warrior and we will need all we can. Go with them and if you can in any way, help take the beast down, your reward will be great indeed."

"Aye, my Jarl" answered Arn with a nod of his head. Farengar and his questions would have to wait.

Night was falling, but twenty minutes later, after arranging things with Irileth and following her and a group of about six guards out across the savannah west of Whiterun, they came to a tower that used to be a part of a larger keep, but now was just a shell of a tower with dilapidated wall nearby and stones laying here and there from the old structure.

The guards already there were terrified. Arn was surprised they hadn't fled they were so worked up.

"Was the Dragon Black with Orange stripes?" Arn asked determinedly, wondering if it was the same one he'd encountered at Helgen.

"NO! It was large and BROWNISH GREEN!" answered a panicked guard.

It was dark by now, but there was still plenty of light to be had on the crystal clear night from the full moon and radiant stars.

As Arn asked a few more questions while some of the others fanned out, the dragon made his entrance.

A slight whisp of wind from it's wings was the only warning and one of the guards standing in the middle of the makeshift courtyard by the tower was engulfed in its jaws.

"DRAGON!" were the repeated screams as guards scurried every which way away from the dark form devouring the unfortunate first victim.

At the first sight of its shadowy bulk descending, Arn had unslung his bow and begun firing, angling his way near the dilapidated stone wall next to the tower.

In a few seconds, two more guards met their demise at the Dragon's claws even as the other began to focus their bow shots and weapon strikes against its flank.

As the dragon turned this way and that, swinging a clawed forearm at one guard or breathing fire at a darting and taunting Irileth, Arn was vaguely aware the Dragon was...making noises...saying something?

He had no idea what it was, but he felt like he should. It was the same feeling he'd had in Bleak Falls Barrow. The feeling of familiarity like he knew something but just couldn't place it.

Arn wasn't sure how many guards there had been at the tower originally, but he figured only half were left alive now, and as the dragon lofted himself up with his wings, he breathed flame at three foolish ones who'd picked the same stone to hide behind to fire arrows.

Their screams as they roasted alive made Arn aim at the Dragon's head but in the darkness, it was hard to see if and how many of his arrows were actually piercing the Dragon's scaled hide.

"THE WINGS! AIM FOR THE WINGS! BRING IT DOWN!" screamed Irileth to whoever was left.

Arn immediately complied but realized as he reached back that he was going to run out of arrows soon.

The Dragon vanished into the night and silence fell again, broken only by the moans and cries of the dying as all eyes scanned the starlit sky.

Arn spotted it this time, swooping back around from over the tower.

"THERE!" he hollered, unleashing a shot at its left wing.

It pulled up into a mid-air hover, turning toward Arn, who immediately tackled the guard next to him through the tower doorway just as the beast belted a blast of fire at where they'd been.

Arn heard a few more screams from outside as he got back to his feet and retrieved his last arrow, taking aim around the corner as the dragon stayed hovering, covering the landscape in flames as it spewed it back and forth at anything that moved.

As it lifted itself to fly forward, Arn let fly with his last arrow, striking it in the left wing and its impact immediately noticeable as the beast flailed in its flight and crashed to the ground, one wing bent at a wrong angle.

Downed but not in the least bit dead, the Dragon roared a flame at Irileth and what looked like the only guard left outside, then turned and charged partway up the broken stone wall, lunging at Arn through the tower opening.

The guard inside the tower with him shrieked as the dragon's head appeared suddenly through the door and snapped at them, unable to reach because of the awkward angle and size of the dragon.

Arn dropped his bow, arming his sword and shield instead.

Alright, the hard way then.

As he did so, the dragon had turned his head to snap at the guard, who had wisely armed his sword and shield as well, blocking a bit at his torso with his shield.

Then the dragon did something unexpected. Seeing the shield defense, it slipped it's large tongue out and slapped at the guard's legs, knocking him over. Then it just snatched him up in its jaws, crunching his legs and shaking him back and forth like a chew toy.

"NOOOOO!" screamed the guard, flailing his arms, looking for anything to grab onto.

But in doing all this, the dragon had not taken Arn into account.

He'd charged when he saw the Dragon divert his attention and now he struck a stab home in its right eye socket as its head neared the doorway.

Releasing the Guard, it bellowed in pain, backing out of the doorway and stumbling around the courtyard.

Irileth and another guard were still there, timing dart in attacks on its flanks. It turned to snap at them and Arn saw his opportunity.

Running out of the doorway and down the steps, he took a one step leap on one of the large stones lying in the courtyard, then launched himself onto the Dragon's neck.

He'd ditched his shield and held instead a dagger in one hand and longsword in the other.

When he landed, his dagger thankfully held fast as he sank it in the flesh where the head met the neck behind the bony plates that circled the dragons head.

It roared in rage and thrashed from side to side, but Arn had already stabbed his longsword as a follow up into another part of its neck, holding on for dear life as he was jerked back and forth.

Irileth and the remaining guard continued attacking and Irileth must have hit something painful because the Dragon immediately shifted attention to her and stopped thrashing briefly to breathe fire at them.

This was Arn's window of opportunity. Righting himself, he stood up, grabbing onto the bony plates of its head with one hand and raising his longsword with the other then he brought his blade down right into the eye that wasn't damaged and stabbed repeatedly as the dragon bellowed, alternately belching spurts of flame in no specific direction and stumbling around like a drunk.

Then in a final thrust, he brought the longsword down in a spot near its forehead that looked like it might fit between scales. Burying it to the hilt, Arn let out the breath he'd been holding as the Dragon immediately stilled and collapsed to the ground, uttering a last phrase that Arn thought he recognized.

"Dovahkiin...no..."

He stared down at the Dragon's face, bloodied eye sockets and flesh filled teeth from the men he'd devoured.

Then he let out a huge "WHOOOOOOO!" in triumph that echoed across the plains and looked up to see Irileth and the remaining guard staring at him.

"See! Told you it could be done!" barked Irileth at the remaining guard.

Gods, the woman was insufferable at times, thought Arn, realizing they were probably the only survivors of a group of about a dozen and a half.

"Ooh...oh! If only I could get a painting of this moment!" wheezed Arn, out of breath, as he slid down off the Dragon's head.

"Well?" asked Irileth at someone past Arn, who turned to look and realized the remaining guard had gone to check on the other one who'd been in the tower with him.

The guard had emerged and just shook his head negative, which put a damper on how elated Arn had felt only a moment earlier.

Spreading out, they silently looked around for any others but as they made their way back it was obvious no one else made it.

As Irileth was about to give some sort of order to them, they heard a strange rushing noise, like the wind.

"IT'S NOT DEAD!" she yelled as all three turned towards it.

However, it still didn't move. The rushing noise grew in volume and all three began slowly backing away uncertain what was happening.

Then the Dragon began to glow a golden white light, very bright, radiating all around for hundreds of yards.

They shielded their eyes as it got brighter. What sort of strange magic was at work here?

Then the golden light began shooting out from the Dragon's carcass and coming straight toward...ARNSMYTH!

He had no time to react really. He had only just turned to run or dive to the side when he felt like something seized control of him and held him there.

He felt suspended in air as the golden light swirled all around him. Then flashes of images filled his mind, making him unable to think, only react as image after image bombarded him, all to do with the dragon...flying, feeding, other dragons, the land of Skyrim, it all passed through his mind like a tornado while his body suspended in paralysis.

It seemed like forever until the golden light receded and Arnsmyth felt himself fall to his knees, wondering what just happened.

He turned to see both Irileth and the remaining guard staring at him again in shock.

"You...just...absorbed that Dragon's...Soul" stuttered Irileth.

"I did what?"

"You absorbed its Soul!"

"But I didn't do anything! I was just standing here!"

"You must be...one blessed by Akatosh...with the blood of the dragons!" exclaimed the guard.

"A Dragonborn..." pondered Irileth aloud as the guard fell to his knees and began uttering prayers, though Arn wasn't paying attention to the content of them.

"A what?"

"A Dragonborn"

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but if it means you can kill these things easier, then all the better. We should return to inform the Jarl" stated Irileth, kicking the praying guard before turning back to the Dragon's corpse for another surprise.

Instead of a flesh carcass, all that remained of the Dragon was a skeleton.

"Well, I guess it makes cleanup that much easier" muttered Arnsmyth as he got to his feet, looking at his hands, wondering why he felt different.

After retrieving his weapons, Arn followed silently behind the other two as they headed back to Whiterun.

What was it about him and Dragons? First, one attacks his execution, then he has a strange experience surrounding a stone of dragon lore, now this.

He would have a lot more questions for Farengar now, he thought as they reached the gates of Whiterun to shouts and cheers from the Guards as Irileth relayed the news of their success and shouted out more orders as the gates opened.

Once they were back in the Jarl's council, Irileth relayed all that happened in detail, even Arn's daring dragon back riding.

When it came to the part about absorbing the Dragon's soul, everyone, even the Jarl gasped and turned to look at Arnsmyth seated at the table trying to sneak a bite of fruit.

"What?"

"You...are a Dragonborn!" exclaimed Farengar when no one else said anything.

"And?" queried Arn with his hands up, still confused as to why that mattered.

"Only one blessed by Akatosh with the blood of the dragon kin may be a Dragonborn! Only a Dragonborn possesses the power of the Thuum that the Dragons possess. Reknowed slayers of Dragons and powerful men able to turn the tides of battles and wars-" continued Farengar until something even stranger happened.

As if on a gust of wind, an old man's voice was heard in the distance.

"Dragonborn...You are summoned...to High Hrothgar..." were the unmistakable words as everyone in the room stood stock still listening.

Arn was about to ask what in Oblivion's name was that, except he felt like all he'd done for the last hour was to ask himself and other people what was going on.

"The Greybeards! They're summoning him!" practically shouted Farengar, beside himself apparently.

"Alright! Enough is enough! You all seem to know a great deal about this. Well...I know nothing. So if you want me to do something, you'll need to explain what this is all about!" exclaimed Arn exasperatedly.

For about the next hour, Farengar, Irileth, and even the Jarl tried to spell out at length what being the "Dragonborn" meant.

From what Arnsmyth could gather, it was a title born from legends concerning several famous warriors who could command the powers of the dragons through the Thuum.

Then there was the part about a Dragonborn in some prophecy.

Arn didn't particularly care for either of these things as it did nothing to help him figure out what had actually happened to him either in the Barrow or when he absorbed the Dragon's soul.

Before Farengar could wax anymore eloquent about someone hundreds of years ago who said something that might pertain to the Dragonborn, Arn cut him off.

"Enough! That's all well and good, but what just happened to me...with the Dragon's Soul and the other incident in the Barrow I was going to ask about earlier?"

They were all quiet for a moment before Irileth, the most skeptical of the group, spoke up.

"We don't know. You have to realize this was something only talked about in stories and legends. Most people didn't think it actually happened much less anything specific about it. If you want to learn more, your best bet will be the Greybeards."

"Then I guess I will have to answer their summons" sigh Arn as he rose to leave.

Jarl Balgruuf raised his hand to halt him.

"Wait. Before you go. You've done me and the people of this hold several great services. We are in your debt and I would see it repaid."

He motioned to a guard from the side who emerged, carrying a very nice set of armor, skyforge steel sword and an unusual shield.

"I name you Arnsmyth Bulgoar, Thane of Whiterun and all the lands that belong to its hold. You will be entitled to all the privileges and duties of a Thane and are here bestowed the estate of Breezehome as your land holdings. Take these arms, armor, and the Shield of Whiterun as a token of your new office."

Arnsmyth was stunned, clumsily holding out his hands as the guard deposited all the aforementioned arms and armor into them.

A Thane...him an actual Thane. Thanes were from important families, businessmen and women, influential generals and the like, not a low born bladesman.

He sat back down, staring at all the things he'd just set on the table.

"But...I don't know that someone as low born as I should-"

"Nonsense, you're a skilled warrior whose served my people well and you're the Dragonborn" interrupted Balgruuf who apparently wasn't taking "no" for an answer.

"I will strive to do the title honor" responded Arn, not sure what else to say.

"I am aware you may be travelling a lot given that you're the Dragonborn, but you will always have a place to come back to here. And I don't expect you to stay here for court like I would my other Thanes. So you can make haste to answer the Greybeard's summons or get whatever other answers you need. Are we agreed?"

"Y-Yes my Jarl"

"Good, I also declare that Lydia will be your housecarl and do her best to serve and protect you in whatever way you think best"

At that, Arn jerked his head over to where the Jarl had gestured to see that this Lydia...was none other than the guard woman he'd rescued from the bandits!

She must have entered at some point during the discussion because Arn hadn't seen her there to start the report.

It was a good thing Arn already had his hand on his chin. Othewise, his chin might have hit the floor when he turned and saw her standing there at attention on the right side of the room, with wide eyes just as shocked as he was.

It was silent for awhile, then Arn realized they were waiting for him to respond.

"Is...that acceptable?" asked the Jarl.

Arn found his voice after he cleared his throat a time or two.

"Yes..yes indeed. I've seen her fight before and she'll do just fine."

"It's settled then, good. Court dismissed" he said with a wave of his hand as everyone began going different ways.

Arnsmyth sat there at the table, staring at the stuff in front of him, trying to wrap his mind around how much his life had somersaulted out of control in the last several hours when he realized Lydia was standing next to him silently.

"So uh..um...as you can see, I'm kind of new at this and am not sure what a Thane-ly thing to do right now would be" he whispered to Lydia, who smirked slightly before turning to face him.

"Well, even Thanes need sleep and it is getting late...unless you wish to celebrate your slaying of the dragon. I hear they're already toasting you and singing songs with your name at the Bannered Mare."

"Not really sure I feel like celebrating anymore..."

"I can go make sure Breezehome is ready for our arrival, unless you wish me to stay at your side to protect you"

"No..no...go to Breezehome and I'll meet you there later" muttered Arn, avoiding looking at her altogether, lest more...intimate...images flood his mind.

"Very well, my Thane" she replied a bit too flatly before whirling and leaving.

After he'd changed into his new steel armor set, he found himself out on one of Dragon Reach's porches overlooking the city.

Leaning on the railing he looked down on the city, still with numbers of places well lit. He could even hear singing echoing up from the marketplace. Must be quite a party at the Mare, he thought.

"You seemed eager to celebrate earlier and yet here you stand" the gruff voice of Irileth interrupted his thoughts.

"That was when I was just a simple swordsman slaying a dragon, not some mythical being or town noble..."

They were both quiet for awhile before it seemed Irileth moved closer after looking around to see no one was around.

"I've seen far too much of war and the world to believe the story that girl came back with about the bandits" she spoke with intensity, her eyes never leaving his.

He was silent, returning the intensity of her stare, wondering why Irileth cared anything about his housecarl.

"You rescued her didn't you?"

Arn tried to laugh it off.

"Ha ha! Why would you think that? You think I killed all of them alone?"

"Oh sure, your story looks good to those who want a good story, but on closer scrutiny, it doesn't add up. Too much missing time, too little details, and I've seen the way she reacts when someone touches her when she's not expecting it now"

Arn sighed sadly.

"What are you after? Do you feel you must discredit the poor lass? Because no one will support you if you try."

"No...just trying to gauge what sort of man you are."

"This is about me?"

"Yes, I'm entrusting her to you and I wanted to make sure you would take the best care of her" Irileth continued, her usually harsh tone unexpectedly softening.

"Of course...why wouldn't I?"

"It's just that...I...well..Just treat her right"

"Do you wish to stop beating around the bush and speak your mind woman!" snapped Arn, tired of these games of implied pasts and secrets.

Irileth's harsh tone returned.

"It would be good if she travelled with you. This city has not always treated her well..."

"You're still not speaking plainly" retorted Arn, but Irileth didn't answer. She simply turned and walked back inside Dragon's Reach, leaving Arn to ponder the mysteries surrounding his Housecarl.


	6. Conversations and Revelations

I feel like I should preface this at this point since more and more people are viewing these. I'm trying not to spend a lot of time on things the game dwells on at length, particularly conversations and some events. I prefer to spend more time on dramatic battle sequences and character development. There may also be some AU elements in the story, particularly timeline-wise with the Great War, as well as liberties I take with some of the characters to fit the story or things in the game that I felt didn't make enough sense, so I change them in this story. Hope you're enjoying it-LockStockBarrel

First Impressions= Setting Out

Arnsmyth awoke to a scream.

He jerked awake and sat up from the floor suddenly, smacking his forehead on a low hanging shelf sticking out from the wall.

"Argghhh" he gritted in pain, holding his head.

He heard the tell tale swish of a blade, followed by a thud into the floor coming from downstairs.

Grabbing his sword and new shield, he rolled to his feet and ran downstairs, wondering who'd be foolish enough to attack the new Thane of Whiterun in his own home.

He halted at the bottom of the stairs to see his housecarl, Lydia, standing in the middle of the room with sword and shield standing over two Skeever corpses.

She looked at them and visibly shuddered.

"HATE those things!" she exclaimed, turning to see Arn sigh in relief, lowering his weapons.

He saw her eyes widen at seeing him and he realized he was only wearing his cotton breeches, his muscular and much scarred bare chest very visible, though Arn didn't particularly care compared to the throbbing in his head.

Sitting down on the bottom step, he cradled his head with his hands and tried to talk to Lydia without grimacing.

"Do all Thanes get bestowed skeever infested empty houses like this one?"

"No, usually Thanes are not bestowed any lands. They must already own lands to become a Thane" said Lydia, averting her eyes and putting her weapon away.

"Well...it's a start..." Arn muttered, continuing to rub his head, which caused Lydia to then notice the large red mark on his forehead.

"My Thane, what happened?" she asked approaching him hurriedly.

"No..no, it's nothing. Just my forehead losing a battle with a shelf upstairs" he answered, waving her off as she drew near, intending to tend to him.

An awkward silence followed as he sat there rubbing his head clad only in his breeches and Lydia stood nearby in her full armor, waiting for him to give her orders.

"Did you..uh...see to getting those potions and other supplies I asked about last night?"

"Yes, my Thane, I've gotten them all prepared already this morning" she said with a nod.

"Then let's just get our stuff together and head out" he said, rising to his feet and heading back upstairs.

"But, my Thane, we haven't gotten any food and you haven't eaten any breakfa-err Lunch yet"

"We'll kill something on the way"

It took most of the remainder of the day to get far enough away from Whiterun to get the message through to a couple of overly persistent bards and sellswords that their services were not required and turned back to Whiterun.

Once Arn had reconnoitered in a circle to make sure no one else was following, he signaled Lydia to halt.

"There is still daylight left, my Thane. You don't need to stop on my account."

"I'd rather not camp in the mountains until I have to. We'll make camp here."

With all the craziness of the previous night and groups of overexcited people to see them off today, Arnsmyth hadn't had a lot of time to think about his housecarl and how he was supposed to treat her.

Part of his mind was still occupied with all the dragon things that had happened to him in the last few days and what that meant, and the other part of his mind kept his head on a swivel to watch for any threats and the odd bard or mercenary following at a distance.

Now, as they found suitable shelter and began setting up a small camp, his mind turned back to her as he watched her move about.

Of course, he was immediately struck by her beauty again as he observed her movements. She was clad in a heavy armor set that resemble a mesh of standard steel and imperial armors with a few alterations made over a skin and leather jerkin set underneath.

It was good protection, and the alterations she'd made to the torso must be to allow for her larger than normal bust as well as allow her more flexibility in the waist and shoulder.

She used sword and shield which was also good and seemed comfortable with it the lone time he'd seen her in stance after killing skeevers.

Still, if he was going to trudge into who knows where to get answers and fight anymore dragons, he needed to know exactly who was standing at his side and what she could do.

As she dropped an armful of firewood, she turned to see him regarding her with some intensity.

"Is there something wrong, my Thane? Did I do something incorrectly?"

"No-no not at all. I was just thinking"

"May I ask what?"

"Do all housecarls always act so servant-like around their Thanes?"

"I...do not know. If you wish me not to speak so much, I...can remain silent unless spoken to" she said, obviously feeling hurt as she said it.

"Nonsense! I want your input. You are no servant. You're a housecarl. You're my housecarl. Speak whenever you wish. I don't like this meek Lydia. I've been wondering what happened to the fiery lass I met in the cave who called me 'a rutting piece of mudcrab sot' if I recall correctly"

Lydia blushed and looked away but Arn noticed the small smirk she allowed herself.

"My apologies, my tha-err, what do you wish me to call you?" she asked.

"My name, Arnsmyth, or Arn for short"

"I will, though if we are in the Jarl's court, it is still important that I refer to you by your title"

"Fair enough"

"May I ask you something personal, Arnsmyth?"

"Sure" he said, removing a sharpening stone from his bag and set to work sharpening their weapons.

"You're Nord by birth but seem unaware of a lot of our ways. You told me you were a veteran of the Great War but you don't look that old. How old are you and did you ever spend any time here in Skyrim before?"

"I was born here in the Hjaalmarch region. My mother died giving me life. My father was a smith but also a merchant and would travel on behalf of other smiths to arrange trade of material and weapons. So I got to travel around Skyrim some as a boy.

When I was fourteen, my father took me with him to Cyrodiil to do trade there with the outbreak of the Great War.

He was in the wrong place at the wrong time for a surprise Thalmor raid. That left me alone with nothing, but I hated the Thalmor. So I lied about my age and claimed to be sixteen and joined the Imperial Legion who were desperate for recruits at that time.

I served in many battles, though not the famous ones you hear about for the Imperial City. I was with the men in the west under General Decianus, later discharged as an 'invalid'...Oh, but we invalids put up a fight. If it weren't for us making Aranyella's forces think the army was still there, the famous Battle of the Red Ring would never have turned out the way it did" sighed Arn in disgust, sharpening his blade harder than he meant, remembering how bitter that time had been...how hard they had fought while others were the ones with the glory.

He pushed the unpleasant memories away to look up and find Lydia sitting comfortably against a tree only a few feet from him regarding him with a look of both admiration and concern.

"So that makes you what...forty one?" she puzzled out loud.

"Yes...forty one" Arn sighed " some reason you wanted to know the exact age?"

"No...I was just...curious. You certainly don't look it. Most of the guards thought for sure you were only in your thirties, but that would make you a child at the time of the Great War."

"Yes, well part of it is not letting my hair or beard grow out, or then I'd look much older"

"Ah but Nord women like beards on their men" she replied, that smirk creeping back onto her face.

"Yes, well, I doubt much what some sot does with his beard when women see what I can do with my sword" he smirked back.

It took him only a second to realize that didn't come out like he meant it to.

"I mean...uh...if I can slay a dragon without a beard, then a woman-wait, I mean, that is, me without the beard, not the dragon-" he stuttered out, failing to find some way of smoothing it over without making it worse.

Her laughter cut him off and he just threw up his hands and had to laugh at himself a bit too.

"Well, now that I've sufficiently made a fool of myself, what's your story?" asked Arn, slightly worried he'd shared too much about himself as well as wondering if she might share anything that would shed any light on the mysteries Irileth had implied in Whiterun.

She stopped laughing for a moment, brushing a braid of black hair back behind her ear as she looked off in the distance at the setting sun.

"Well, it's certainly not as interesting as yours" she started "I never knew my parents. From what I was told, I was an orphan left on the steps of Kynareth's temple. I was raised by the temple priests and priestesses there until I was about eight. Then I was brought into Balgruuf's service when he became Jarl as a maid in the dragon reach kitchen until I was entering maidenhood.

I thought of joining the Companions, but they said I was too young then, so I trained and joined the city guard instead. I've been doing that for ten years now, using any opportunity I can to improve my skills and maybe join the Companions later, though now that's all changed..." she finished with uncertainty.

"So that would make you...at least twenty six...?" he mocked in the same tone she'd asked the same question to him earlier.

"Twenty eight.." she replied, smiling a little sheepishly.

"So..no family...no husband?" Arn continued the train of thought out loud.

"No...no husband" she replied, a little sadly.

"None right now or none ever?"

"None ever"

"Surely you've had proposals"

"No...not one"

"WHAT?!" Arn reacted more surprised than he meant to before asking more than he meant to.

"Come now, surely a beautiful young lass like you has men hanging by every door to open it for her, especially during your maidenhood"

"Not really...there were one or two, but the Jarl said they proved unworthy of me and no one else really has tried...I thought..at one time...that the Jarl wanted me for himself, but then he never did anything more-

"What do you mean by anything _more_?" Arn interrupted

Lydia blushed redder than he had seen at any time up until now, even more than the time she'd realized he'd seen her naked.

"During the waning years of my maidenhood, I think I was seventeen at the time, there was an incident between the Jarl and I that made me think he had interest in me"

"Oh? What happened?"

She fixed him with a sharp gaze.

"If I tell you, you MUST promise not to tell another soul. He is still the Jarl and has been my guardian since I was a little girl."

Now Arn thought he was getting somewhere.

"Consider your story safe with me"

"One time, I was cleaning up after a banquet. The Jarl had given himself to an awful lot of mead and was asleep at the table. Everyone else had retired to other parts of the hall. Irileth was escorting guests somewhere else in Balgruuf's stead."

Arn had a bad feeling where this was going.

"As I was cleaning, the Jarl stirred and ordered me to come over. As I did so, he told me to turn around and sit on his lap. So I did, then he began to...touch me...underneath my skirts and my bodice...in such a way it became obvious what he wanted"

" What did you do?"

"I let him. He's the Jarl and after all he'd done for me growing up, who was I to deny him a repayment on all he'd done for me"

"You mean to say you let him take your maidenhood in the banquet hall?"

She smirked a bit at his conclusion.

"No, silly. It didn't go that far. Wouldn't that make a saucy tale...No, as anyone who'd been around the palace would know, the Jarl is never alone for long before Irileth is back to faithfully watch over him, even if it's just to take a piss."

"When she returned to see the Jarl with one hand in my bodice and the other underneath my dress, by the nine, I've never seen her so furious. She was screaming, though mostly at the Jarl, to my surprise...After that, the Jarl hardly ever spoke to me again and I think Irileth made sure I got sent on assignments that took me away from him."

"Did you never challenge the Jarl during your maidenhood years why more men were not coming forward at your most eligible time?"

"Not really... It's difficult. You begin your maidenhood and you're just becoming a woman. There's still so much you don't know about everything and you just assume everything will work out later. It just...didn't...for me."

Arnsmyth didn't buy it completely. Irileth had said far too much for him to believe the tale Lydia was telling him was all there was to it, but she likely didn't appear aware of whatever things Irileth was implying or was too ashamed to say, though he didn't sense any deceit in her demeanor.

As he pondered the possibilities that might explain all the strange behavior, he was vaguely aware Lydia had asked him something.

"I'm sorry what?" he muttered.

"I was wondering if you are or ever were married?" she asked, more calm now that the subject of the conversation was him again.

Immediately, the memories of Desarra filled his mind, this time more vividly than in the last few days. From meeting her in the guild, to working alongside each other, to sharing drinks after missions, to sneaking away from the others to make love in the fields and the woods, or even the cleared areas of the ruins...then the betrayal...the clearing...the hideous altar...her body, naked and cold, impaled on some disgusting spike.

Arn felt the anger and loss welling up raw in him again and felt like weeping anew at the memory, gritting his teeth while staring purposefully into the glow of the sunset, hoping Lydia hadn't noticed too much, but it was far too obvious.

"You...lost her...didn't you?" she stated more than asked slowly, her tone softening and countenance filling with concern as he turned to look at her.

"I didn't lose her, she was _taken_ from me" he hissed through gritted teeth.

A powerful silence fell between them for a minute or two before Lydia spoke up again.

"I am sorry...I...did not know. I didn't mean to bring up such a painful memory. I will not bring it up again."

"It's not your fault. She was not my wife, but my beloved nonetheless...Her name was Desarra and she was a Breton beauty"

Arn swallowed down the lump in his throat, wondering in some part of his mind why he was continuing to talk about it to Lydia.

"She was small of frame with blonde hair and loved fighting with two shortswords" he grinned at the memories of watching her wade into a big melee with her two little swords.

"We met in the Starblades fighter's guild...at first we didn't like each other. Then as time went on, we worked together more and more until it became obvious we were each taking assignments solely based on if the other would be there. Then it was just a matter of time before we were sneaking off from the campsites to rut each other senseless" Arn chuckled, his hand thumbing the hilt of his longsword as though remembering what her skin would've felt like as he caressed it.

"Then a year ago, our guild was betrayed. We were hired by a large group to clear out an a ruin of whatever haunted inside, but it was a setup. The real prey was us. The group that hired us wanted sacrifices for an unholy ritual. So they gave us poisoned provisions and sent us to the ruin."

"I was separate from the others getting some arms and other supplies from a nearby city, when they sprung the trap. Because of the poison, my friends and brothers didn't have the strength to fight. They fell by treachery, and when I returned, found only bodies and desecrations of all that had been my friends...and my beloved Desarra...I found impaled on some hideous altar in the ruins" Arn realized he'd balled his hands into fists, shaking in rage, a lone tear streaked down his cheek.

He felt a soft hand on his arm, stilling his shaking as he turned to look at Lydia, who was trying to give him a smile and a reassuring look, her feet pulled up underneath her and her eyes watering with emotion.

"But you avenged her..didn't you?" she whispered, trying to hold back emotion.

"How do you know?" Arn replied, more cynically than he meant to, thinking of the one culprit he hadn't been able to get to.

Lydia chuckled a little at that.

"Come on. I've only known you what, three days? and in that time you stormed a Bandit stronghold by yourself because of what they did to me. I can only imagine what you did to those who betrayed her."

"Yes...they wanted sacrifices to Molag Bal. I tracked down every one I could find...one by one I got them and made sure they knew what a real bloodbath was...all except one. He turned out to be the Magister's son and I couldn't touch him without proof. It didn't matter to me...I went after him anyway, but accidentally killed the Magister in the process...I immediately became a wanted fugitive...scrambling and hiding for months until I decided to come back to Skyrim for the time being until things blew over...now all this has happened" Arn sighed, waving his hands around.

"I'm sure you'll get him eventually, or maybe he'll be betrayed by someone else...that might be fitting for his crime" smiled Lydia reassuringly, rising to start building the fire.

After a few minutes of silence, Arn turned his mind to the present, putting the past back out of his mind.

"Get some rest. Tomorrow, we have a lot to go over"

"Okay, wake me at mid-watch so you can get some rest"

"No...I won't be getting any sleep tonight" was the abrupt reply from Arnsmyth.

As Lydia curled up under her blankets, and turned away from him, momentarily bewitching him with the curves of her bust and hips, Arn wondered just what possessed him to share so much with her and so soon.

They'd only been gone from Whiterun one day. Was something wrong with him or was she affecting him more than he wanted to admit, or both maybe?


	7. The Measure of (Wo)Man:Road to Ivarstead

The Measure and Aim of a (Wo)man

An arrow whizzed past Arnsmyth Bulgoar's head in the midday sun.

"You missed again" he sighed, turning to look through his helmet slits at where Lydia stood with her bow, some thirty paces away, knocking another arrow to take aim at the gourd Arnsmyth held in his hand.

"Maybe it would help if you weren't holding it" she muttered, taking aim.

"I could be locked in mortal combat with one or more foes. You should be able to pinpoint a target from that distance with me tangled up with it...Besides, that's why I'm wearing all my armor pieces."

Lydia didn't answer, just simply huffed slightly as she let loose the arrow which flew straight and impacted through the gourd, sending it flying out of Arn's hand!

"So that's your secret ability? If you huff angrily when you shoot, you're guaranteed a hit?" teased Arn.

"Well, it's only the second time in two days of trying that I've gotten it...so...if that's what it takes!" she exclaimed, happily skipping up to inspect what was left of the gourd.

"So...if you want me to be as good as you are with a bow, how come you're not giving out any pointers?" asked Lydia cautiously as they began retrieving arrows from the bushes.

"It's not ALL about how good you are as an archer. You can learn a lot about someone by just watching them learn to shoot a bow. Don't tell them anything. Don't show them anything. Just watch. Are they patient, adaptable, aggressive, confident or not? and how much? Do they take a strategic or tactical approach to anything or not?" replied Arn, returning the handful of arrows still salvageable he'd gathered to her.

"So...you've been grading me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Eh...more like getting the measure of you...don't know that I like the term 'grading'" he mused, removing his helmet and stroking the growing stubble on his chin.

"And? Do I 'measure' up?" she asked with some concern in her voice, cocking her hip to one side and resting her Imperial Longbow at her side.

"Would you be angry if I said you had shortcomings?"

She seemed a little hurt by it, but perked her head up, that spark of fire returning to her personality.

"Then it would be good to know what they are. So I can fix them."

"Well, you trust me. That's a good start. You are also fairly patient as long as you perceive a point to what you're doing and you are willing to employ different strategies to accomplish your goals. Your aggression is a problem though" Arn said, sitting on a log and motioning her to sit next to him.

"I thought warriors needed to be aggressive?" Lydia replied ponderingly as she sat next to him.

"For sure, but only at the right times. Over-committing to anything is just as bad as not committing anything at all. I would swear two thirds of all killing blows I've ever made with my sword have come right after an opponent overcommitted on a strike. You can't win fights with pure zeal, or you make mistakes. If you make mistakes, you die and the people relying on you die."

"I see...so...what would you advise to channel my aggression at the right times?" she asked, brushing one of her braids back out of her face.

"Part of it is thinking and reacting more strategically. If you train yourself to take all options into consideration, the right one will become more apparent. The other part is just getting the combat experience and getting a feel for the right time in a fight to be more aggressive. It's not something I can teach."

"Right...so...is that why you've kept me from accompanying you into those grottos you went into yesterday?"

"That not so much as the fact you need to learn to be more stealthy"

Lydia raised her eyebrows a bit incredulously.

"But...I wear heavy armor"

"So do I"

She looked puzzlingly at him for a second, causing him to marvel at how cute she looked with her features scrunched up with brows furrowed in contemplation before Arn shook himself back to what he was going to say.

"It's a common misconception. Just because it's more difficult, doesn't mean it can't be done. I'll teach you what I can about that as well, but that will take more time."

She looked down at her armor for a moment before shrugging.

"I guess as a city guard, I never really had much reason to sneak anywhere before"

"Rule number 4: ALWAYS sneak, unless you can't anymore" Arn replied proudly.

"A Rule? Where are these from?" she asked, turning to grin at him.

"Oh...that's a holdover from the Starblades Guild. We had a...list of rules of sorts. They pretty much all applied to fighting or things to do with it. They're good things for any warrior to remember"

"How many were there?"

"I think there were 37, but I don't remember the newer ones they put in place"

"What were the others?"

"Oh, I think I've done enough talking for one day. I'll teach you them all in time. We need to get moving or we won't make much progress. I was hoping to be in Ivarstead by tomorrow night."

"Well, if you stopped investigating every unusual looking cave and ruin along the way, we'd probably make better time" she teased, with a smirk.

Arn knew she was completely fine with investigating whatever they came across. She just wanted to go in with him, which up until now, he hadn't allowed.

"We'll need the money we get from whatever we find. I don't expect people to help me just because of some title no one knows anything about, nor will Breezehome furnish itself...and don't worry, you'll be trudging in behind me soon enough" He smiled reassuringly to her as they gathered their gear and packs to depart.

They made good time to finish out the day, setting up camp on the bend of a hillside just off the road. By his reckoning, Arn figured they were within half a day's journey to Ivarstead.

"So...what was it like growing up in Kynareth's temple?" Arn asked after they'd eaten and sat around the fire, idly gazing at the stars, though Arn kept finding himself stealing glances at Lydia, lounging on her side with one hand supporting her head and the other tracing little circles in the dirt.

"It was suprisingly interesting. A lot of people think living in a temple like Kynareth's would be boring, but I learned a lot from the priestesses there, mostly about people. People were always coming in, looking for help with all kinds of things, even if it was something Kynareth had nothing to do with."

"What made you want to become a warrior, if you grew up around priestesses?"

"I don't know...I guess...maybe it had something to do with how many people came in looking for healing after being attacked or beseeching Kynareth on behalf of a missing family member...so many things that the priestesses could do nothing to stop, only react to. I guess...I thought I could do more to change things as a warrior than anything else" she finished, still looking up at the stars.

"How did Skyrim get this bad?" asked Arn, unintentionally staring at Lydia.

She turned and gazed curiously at him.

"What do you mean? get this bad?"

"When I was growing up, there were no dragons, no rebellion, bandits didn't own the roads, there weren't beasts encroaching on the outskirts of the cities themselves, and you didn't get set upon by rogue mages in broad daylight"

"Ever since the Great War, from what everyone tells me, even you now, Skyrim hasn't been the same"

"So it would seem..." Arn sighed sadly.

"Well this is a first" Lydia said, sitting up and crossing her legs underneath her "Looks like this time, I'm giving you the history lesson"

Over the next hour, Lydia related to him what she could about the incidents that had led the land to where it was at now, from the Markarth incident to the slaying of the High King Torygg and the Stormcloak rebellion.

"So they still haven't elected another High King?" asked Arn incredulously.

"No, the land is too divided. Each side wants victory before consolidating power to one person"

"And now there are dragons in the mix..." pondered Arnsmyth aloud.

"Yes, but now there's also a dragonborn to be reckoned with" Lydia smiled reassuringly at him before laying back down and enveloping herself in her fur blanket to sleep.

_At least one of us seems to think that's comforting, _thought Arn, moving up higher on the hill to get a better position to watch for any threats.

He had been uncertain when he'd left Whiterun who this woman was and if he really was better off with her around or not. Now as he looked down at her sleeping form, he had to admit that the prospect of travelling without her saddened him so much he didn't want to consider it.

He was still uncertain what he was to do. After all the things Lydia had said about Skyrim that evening, it seemed worse than even his first impressions had been.

He stirred himself from these depressing thoughts to begin his usual routine of placing rune trap spells in any strategic spot an enemy might use to approach the camp.

As he moved quietly around, he lamented he hadn't learned more of Illusion magic since this sound trap rune had come in handy countless times.

After an hour, they were all set and he returned to the campfire to the sound of moans.

It had started again. Lydia lay curled up in a fetal position in her bedroll, moaning and her head beginning to thrash back and forth. Arn sighed sadly and sat next to her, taking one of her hands in his and cradling her head in his lap.

Slowly, the thrashing stopped along with the moans, and gradually her breathing calmed as she curled closer to him.

It had been the same every night since they'd left Whiterun, the same as the first time when she'd been recovering from the Bandits. She must be reliving the same nightmares night after night, much like Arn did with Desarra's death.

Though he had to admit that he hadn't had any nightmares at all since leaving Whiterun.

He looked down at her as she slept calmly, raven shoulder length hair tousled and fair cheeks tinted with a shade of red, her posture unclenching slightly from the fetal position she had been in and Arn's heart leapt into his throat as he saw below her arm, the cotton undershirt she wore had the same hole cut as her armor, so when she had moved her arm up to cling to his leg unknowingly, he caught sight of the pale side of her breast through the armpit area.

He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to force his loins to stop hardening up.

_Just...treat her right...this city hasn't always treated her well_

The words of Irileth came back to him. Yes, indeed, treat her right...because you didn't. Guilt, that's what this was about. Guilt over keeping her from proper attentions during her maidenhood, guilt over drunkenly taking advantage of her, guilt over sending her on a far off assignment that got her captured and raped repeatedly.

The solution? Send her off with the dragonborn. Of course, show your support for the new warrior and get rid of a nuisance at the same time.

Shrewd, Balgruuf, very shrewd. Then again, maybe it was more Irileth's doing. Arn wondered just how much the Jarl actually decided or if Irileth guided him to whatever decision she thought best and he just went along with it.

_Just...treat her right..._

Arn looked down at her again and realized he had been stroking her hair carefully and softly the whole time.

The poor lass had been the Jarl's puppet from the time she was a maiden. She'd been ignored or mistreated in Whiterun, captured, ravaged, and abused by bandits, and now sent with some older man she didn't know as a housecarl to who knows where to do who knows what.

This would not stand.

She wanted to be a warrior. She wanted to save people. By the Nine, Arnsmyth swore he would make it so. She would be the best warrior he could possibly make her, and he would not treat her the same as other thanes or jarls. He would not take advantage of her, no matter how beautiful she was or how willing she might be to rut with him.

Arn looked around for a moment and reckoned the mid-watch hour was approaching.

Carefully, as he did every evening, he extricated himself from her grasp, arranged her bedroll in such a way that she did not suspect anything unusual and moved back across to the other side of the campfire.

Then, after rechecking the perimeter briefly, he returned and woke her up to take watch.

Despite being a sound sleeper, she was active quickly once she woke, allowing Arn to slide into his bedroll for some needed shut eye.

As his consciousness faded into sleep, he glimpsed her outline as she moved underneath a large tree branch on the hill to obscure her to any approaching threats. Yes, she was coming along just fine.

It seemed like he had just shut his eyes, when he felt himself violently shaken awake, Lydia whispering in his ear:

"Dragon in the sky!"

Arn roused himself quickly, grabbing his weapons, glancing up this way and that in the early morning light, but not seeing any sign of a dragon.

A little surprised, he turned to look enquiringly at Lydia, who just brought a finger to her lips to motion silence and then another hand to cup her ear for him to listen, which he did.

For a minute, he heard and saw nothing, then he heard it...that same whoosh of wind from large wings he'd heard at the western watchtower, and at the same moment a slight shadow passed through the woods as Arnsmyth followed its trajectory back to its source.

A dragon flew low and relatively silently over the woods just east of them, scanning for something. It was a little obscured as the sun had not yet risen, but it was still obviously a dragon in flight and very close.

Even as Arn considered what to do, the dragon seemed to turn its head and look right where they crouched against the hill in the woods.

Surely it couldn't see them from that range...with the tree cover...with the dim light of morning...

Arnsmyth's heart fell as he both felt and heard the roar of the dragon as it turned in flight, heading straight toward them.

It closed with astonishing speed as Arn armed his bow, taking aim.

"Stay separate, take its wings out first, use the terrain to our advantage, and don't go at it head on" he admonished Lydia, who scrambled away to his left, bow in hand as the Dragon closed to near bow range.

"Damn you beasts" muttered Arn as he let loose with his first arrow just as the dragon pulled up mid air to belch it's flame at them..or so Arn thought.

Instead of flame though, a spray of frosty ice came forth from the dragon's maw, forcing Arn to leap aside to his right, sprinting amongst the trees as the frost breath followed him.

Lydia must have been hitting it with arrows as well, because it abruptly stopped its pursuit of him and turned opposite him to belch more frost.

Arn took the opportunity to get into a good defensive position amongst some trees for when it turned again, knocking and firing arrows as fast as he could. It only took a moment for it to return its focus back to Arn, flying toward his spot in the woods, spraying frost down at him as it swooped overhead, the wind from its wings beating down on the trees, raining the icicles loose the freeze breath had caused.

Arn felt lethargic from the amount of cold in the area, but he forced his body into a sprint as the dragon came back around, hoping to make the next major clump of trees before it arrived, but he miscalculated.

Either the cold was making him slower or the dragon was faster than he'd anticipated. He didn't even make it halfway there before the dragon was nearly on him, swooping in nearly sideways and landing feet first against a clump of trees, riding them to the ground in a loud crash and swinging a winged claw at Arn, who dived behind a fallen log to avoid being eviscerated.

It's claw grabbed the log Arn was behind, ripping it up and tossing it like a toy, striking again at Arn, who'd gotten his shield and sword in place, blocking the blow and countering at the retreating wing.

The dragon growled in pain at the slice Arn made and lunged with it's head.

Even though Arn blocked the bite, the force of the strike knocked him off his feet, sending him flying ten feet backward before sliding across the uneven ground, thumping to a stop against an uprooted tree.

The dragon lumbered quickly forward, intending to finish him off in its jaws.

Arn had dropped his sword mid-flight and dazedly struggled to get up, even as the dragon closed on him.

Then Arn did something he himself didn't expect.

He didn't know where it came from, but it just seemed right at the moment and he yelled the dragon word he'd learned in Bleak Falls Barrow.

"FUS!"

He felt a wave of force erupt from him, impacting the advancing jaws and causing the dragon to literally stumble on its face.

Just then, Lydia arrived on the opposite side of the clearing, charging the dragon's flank.

Arn charged forward with shield in one hand, diving low underneath the dragon's rising jaws. He slid a short way on his chest, reached his sword, grabbed it, rolled back over and stabbed upward into the dragon's throat.

The dragon meant to bellow, but instead made a cackling loud gurgle as Arn stabbed repeatedly, rolling one way then the other as the dragon stumbled around.

It stumbled away from them and tried to fly but their arrows and Lydia's attack from behind on its right wing made it unable to do so.

So it just hopped up, only to come down, crashing into a broken tree, the jagged stump impaling the other wing. It gurgled again and tore its wing loose, rumbling toward them enraged.

Arn recalled the ground shook with the pounding of its claws. He and Lydia split and sprinted opposite directions so the dragon would have to pick one to go after.

Losing a second or two deciding which way to turn, the dragon turned and lunged after Arn, who turned and delivered another "FUS!" into its face again, knocking it off its feet again.

Instantly, Lydia had moved in again to attack it's legs from the flank, ducking under a slam from its tail.

This time Arn needed to finish this.

Running in, he ducked as the dragon lifted its head to lunge at him and came up with a powerful slice right behind the bone plates on the head, just like where he'd stabbed the first dragon at the western watchtower.

It must have done the trick because the dragon thrashed around more angrily and out of control, lashing out seemingly randomly at them, not hitting anything and falling to its belly in the process.

Arn could hear the tell tale sound of blade cutting flesh from its flank where Lydia was and knew she must have been getting some serious wounds on it as well.

He got one more good slice on its neck before it began stilling, thrashing its death throes for several minutes as Arn and Lydia backed off, watching carefully as it stilled with its last breath Arn heard that same word or sound he'd heard from the other dragon.

"dovahkiin..."

It lay there still for a full minute before Arn charged in and drove his longsword through the top of its skull, surprising Lydia, who stared at him surprisingly for a moment.

"Rule number one= ALWAYS MAKE SURE THEY'RE DEAD!" He exclaimed too excitedly, as he pried the sword back out with great effort.

Lydia beamed from ear to ear, skipping toward him happily and Arn realized he was grinning ear to ear as well, hopping up and down with excitement.

"We killed a dragon!" she shouted.

"Yes! Yes! Whooooo!" shouted Arn as he met her halfway and they sort of over excitedly leaped into each other's arms, half hugging, half holding arms as they leaped up and down with excitement.

After a short while of celebrating, Arn realized they were both laughing giddily and running around the dragon carcass like mad fools. He also realized both he and Lydia had gotten into quite a bit of the dragon's frost breath, as his teeth were beginning to chatter and he could see Lydia's hair had icicles in it.

As they began to tire, Arn collapsed and lay down on his back, staring up into the sky as the sun rose over the peaks of the mountains to signal sunrise.

In a few moments he felt Lydia collapse next to him.

"Whew!" she said through shaking teeth as well.

"Y-you-you're c-c-cold" said Arn, sitting up.

"S-s-s-o-o ar-are y-you" replied Lydia, still beaming happily at him while shaking.

"W-w-we s-sh-should b-b-build a f-f-fire" Arn shuddered, getting to his feet and eyeing the broken trees all around the small clearing they were in.

"M-m-maybe h-h-he c-c-can h-h-help" said Lydia, hugging herself with one arm and pointing with the other past Arn.

Arnsmyth turned to see they had moved parallel to the road and the clearing they were in was adjoining to it. So anyone on the road could see, and sure enough, there was a horse-led cart standing there with a man sitting with his mouth literally hanging open, staring at them and the dead dragon.

Arn later would swear the horse's mouth was hanging open in awe as well, but then again he was rather excited and...may have imagined it or maybe the horse in question just liked hanging its mouth open.

As Arn started toward the man, he tried to shout to him, but felt something seize hold of him.

Too late he realized the rushing noise of wind had been building but he'd been too chatteringly cold to realize it and a shimmering golden light enveloped him, holding him in place as he felt the images and words flashing through his mind so quickly, he nearly passed out.

When he was coherent again, he was on his hands and knees in the field and heard voices hazily from a distance.

Then Lydia was beside him, with that cute frown of worry on her face as she tried to help him back to his feet.

Then he began making sense of what she was saying.

"Arn! Are you alright! What was that?"

"That was...me..absorbing its soul..." he stated, holding his head with one hand as though he had a headache.

"You can just do that anytime?"

"No...apparently it just sort of happens after I kill a dragon..I guess" he replied, turning to see she was still shivering with icicles in her hair, but Arn didn't feel cold at all anymore...maybe another side effect of the soul absorption...he didn't know for sure.

Just then the man from the cart on the road reached them, having run to them while Arn was out of it.

"I can't believe you just did that! Are you alright?!" he exclaimed.

"We need a fire or somewhere warm" said Arn glancing at Lydia shivering again.

"If you're headed to Ivarstead, you can sit in the back of my cart...besides no one will believe my story if you're not there. Not every day you get to meet dragonslayers!" he patted Arn's shoulder as they walked toward the wagon.

Arn turned and took one last glimpse at the dragon's skeleton and something caught his eye amongst the bones.

"I'll be right back!" he yelled, running back to the belly of the carcass.

When he arrived, he was surprised to see a shiny black sword. Can't be, he thought, but on closer inspection, it had to be...Ebony, a class of weapon far beyond the steel he and Lydia both were using.

Grabbing it, he ran back even more happily to Lydia and what must be a merchant based on all the wares in the back of his wagon as Arn directed him back to their camp so they could get their things.

As they sat rocking in the back of the wagon, Lydia covered in furs while Arn organized their things, she sat up, beginning to get warm enough to not shiver uncontrollably.

"So...is this how it's going to be? You run around like a mad fool dodging things while I attack their arses?" she smirked

"Worked out pretty well this time" he grinned back

"So if I can help you take down a dragon, do you think I measure up enough to go against whatever you find in those caves and grottos?" she said with a raised eyebrow, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"You measure up just fine" he said with an approving nod.


	8. Throat of the World: High Hrothgar

The Throat of the World: High Hrothgar

Arnsmyth stared through wincing eyes at the stiff corpse, frozen solid in a fetal position just off the steps.

"Sh-sh-should we do anything for him?" came the shivering question from Lydia behind him.

Arn shook his head.

"N-n-not if we d-d-don't wanna j-j-join him"

He grabbed her arm and helped her through a large snow drift across the top of a flight of stairs as the wind began picking up again, blowing snow across the side of the mountain and obscuring their vision.

Arn understood why they called it the path of seven thousands steps now. It felt like they had been climbing for a week, though in reality it had only been two days since they left Ivarstead.

The lower part of the mountain was just like any other. They encountered a wolf or two and some pilgrims meditating, but as they got higher the temperature steadily declined.

Arn had remembered his father's words that High Hrothgar was the coldest place in Skyrim and if he ever travelled there, to always have extra coating and carry firewood from below because up top, there was none to be had.

Lydia hadn't been too thrilled about leaving some of their provisions behind to shoulder a bundle of firewood, but he had insisted and now it would pay off as he spotted a crack in the rocks in the mountain and surmised it would be a good place to spend the evening.

Spending some time to clear snow out with his shield and pack it into a barricade to keep the ever increasing snowstorm out, they set up the wood and after awhile got the fire going.

Even with the fire though, they were both shivering cold.

Arn set the sound trap at the opening but figured it was pointless since nothing could survive up here for long and certainly wouldn't be prowling in this weather.

It was so cold, neither he nor Lydia felt like talking, so after a long silence and scraping out what little rations they had left, Arn breached the subject they were probably both thinking about but weren't saying anything.

"W-w-we s-s-should p-p-p-rob-bably sh-sh-share a b-b-bed-roll to k-k-k-eep w-w-warm"

Lydia didn't say anything, she just nodded her head "yes" as she shivered while hugging herself with her arms.

Once they had removed all metal armor pieces and arranged the bedrolls as close to the fire as possible, Arn motioned Lydia in and slid in before pulling the patchwork of skins and blankets over them.

At first, they awkwardly lay next to each other, staring up at the rock above them, each shivering slightly, but getting warmer as the extra blankets along with Arn's trusty enchanted Elk pelt did their job.

For some reason, Arn had an uncontrollable urge to put his arm around her. So much so, that twice he twitched his arm up and down as he jerked it back into place.

Either the awkwardness or the cold kept them awake. After about an hour, Lydia turned on her side and looked him in the eye.

"If y-y-you w-w-want, we can m-m-make love t-t-to stay w-w-warm"

"What?!" said Arn, almost jumping out of the bedroll in surprise.

"Don't b-b-be s-s-so s-s-surprised...a l-l-lot of Th-th-thanes r-r-rut w-w-with th-th-their h-housecarls"

"N-n-no, I-I-I...uh" stuttered Arn, his right arm reaching for Lydia before pulling it back.

"W-w-why n-n-n-ot...you've a-a-already s-s-s-seen m-m-m-me n-n-n-naked b-b-before...it's-s-s n-n-not a b-b-big d-d-deal...I'm h-h-here t-t-to s-s-serve h-h-however I c-c-can"

Arn remembered the oath he'd sworn about not taking advantage of her no matter his position.

"P-p-pull the b-b-blankets o-o-over our h-h-heads" was all he said, not wanting to refuse her but also not wanting to have to explain why he was refusing. So he just avoided answering.

Covering their heads seemed to help immensely, though he could feel Lydia still looking at him in the darkness, her soft, warm breaths hitting him on his chin and making him even more aware of how easy it would be to just reach out with his hand...

No...he couldn't do that to her.

_You're almost old enough to be her father. Get a hold of yourself, fool._ _How much different would you be from Balgruuf?_

But even as he thought about it, Lydia questioned him again, though neither of them were shivering anymore.

"Do you want to make love to stay warm? It's not a difficult question..."

He could tell by her tone she was annoyed with him. Why did he feel like the bad guy here? Why did she have to ask him that now?

So Arnsmyth did the only thing he could to save himself from either his own scorn or hers...he pretended to be asleep.

He made slow deliberate breaths with as relaxed a posture as possible, eventually even snoring a little for good measure.

After a few minutes of this, he felt her breath on his chin, her face must have been only an inch or two from him and he could feel her body heat, her hand brushing over his arm and her knee touching his.

He kept his act up however and after a moment, she huffed her signature angry huff, turned away from him, not subtle in her movements at all, and rolled onto her back again and away from him.

Arn realized his adrenaline was pumping despite his controlled fake breathing and his heart rate was escalating. Had it given him away?

Regardless, she said no more and after awhile, he could hear the faint steady breaths denoting sleep from her...or maybe she was faking too?

Damn it. Enough games, he thought, and purposed to go to sleep regardless. Once the warmth set in and the adrenaline of the moment passed, Arn was finally able to reach that blissful sleep he'd been faking for going on an hour.

Arnsmyth woke, feeling a refreshing hot warmth that seemed to permeate his body unlike any blanket and basked in it for a moment before becoming more aware of his circumstances.

Coldest place in Skyrim...my arse. He could stand sleeping in to this warmth, then he realized the warmth was coming from someone...else.

As he awoke more fully, he realized his body was completely entwined with Lydia's!

Somehow, during the night, their bodies had migrated across the narrow space and subconsciously gripped each other like lovers, she with her arms around his chest and a leg thrown over his thigh, he with his arms gripping her upper body to his chest with his chin on the top of her head.

It was made worse by the fact that both of them were in their thin cotton undershirts and breeches.

Arn realized with horror that his cock was rock hard through his breeches, poking against the skin where her shirt had ridden up her hip, and he could feel the firm softness of her large breasts pushing warmly against the muscles of his chest through both their shirts disturbed only by the prick of each of her nipples which seemed to be bigger than what he remembered.

Very slowly, he disentangled himself from her and after getting his loins under control, ventured a peak out of the blankets, the blast of cold air making him instantly regret it.

Lydia instantly awoke with a moan and huddled further down to escape the cold.

"Awake sleepy maiden, you really need no beauty sleep" he smirked

_You mad fool! Where did that come from?!_

"What..." she muttered groggily

"Uh-we should..um...get going" he replied shakily, though not from cold.

She groaned before snatching the covers away from him as he got out to fetch their armor.

Once they'd suited up, packed up and headed out, they were stunned to round the first bend and run smack into the foreboding stony front of High Hrothgar.

Arsnmyth groaned.

"Damn it...thirty more feet and we would've seen it"

"So I spent part of the night offering myself to you so we could stay warm and the whole time, the entrance was a mere hundred feet from us!" cried Lydia in annoyance, her shivering beginning to return.

"And imagine how you'd feel now if I'd given in to your entreaties?" asked Arn, feeling a little better about turning her down.

"ENTREATIES?!" she shouted back "Did it SEEM like I was throwing myself at you? Did it SEEM like I was begging you? NO!"

Arn began to realize the gravity of his mistake in his choice of words as her volume and intensity increased as she advanced on him, poking in the chest with her index finger.

"WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR? SOME TAVERN WENCH..EAGER FOR A GOOD RUTTING? SOME HUSSY WHO'LL THROW HERSELF AT YOU WITH YOUR FANCY TITLE? WAIT-entreaties? so...you WERE AWAKE THE WHOLE TIME?"

"Now..now Lydia, please don't-"

"BE WHAT? ANGRY? Why wouldn't I be? All I did was offer to help keep us warm the only way I thought was left and as a housecarl it wouldn't be unusual and instead of even giving me a rutting answer, all I get out of you is pretend games! Aarrgh!" she growled, exasperatedly throwing her hands in the air.

"Lydia, you have to let me explain-I-"

"DRAGONBORN!" echoed a thundering voice across the snow covered steps.

""What?!" both he and Lydia cried in unison as they turned to realize that five robed men in grey cloaks, each with long beards, had emerged from the fortress at some point and stood there watching them.

"Uh...greetings. I think you, uh, sent for me?" asked Arn tentatively, hoping the red flush of embarrassment he felt didn't show on his face.

"Come inside. We have much to discuss. However, she...may not. Women are not allowed at High Hrothgar" spoke the one in the middle.

"Um...I understand she won't be allowed to discuss your...teachings..but she WILL be staying indoors. I'm not sending her back down after getting here" replied Arn, surprised the greybeards would order something so nonsensical.

The first one seemed about to say something before another whispered something to him. Then another chimed in before they seemed to come to some sort of agreement.

"Fine, but she must remain in seclusion in the guest room. You must make yourself wholly devoted to the Way of the Voice while you are here. Under no circumstances will there be any...relations" he finished with disdain, eyeing Arn scornfully.

Before Arn could say anything, Lydia pounced.

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that. He's not interested in women. These" she said, jiggling breastplate and breasts underneath "are a complete turnoff to him"

At the rather provocative gesture, one of the greybeards nearly shrieked and turned away with a gasp, covering his eyes. Several of the others fixed them both with stern looks and the first one raised his eyebrow in question at Arn.

"That's not-I-just...can we discuss this inside?"

Thankfully, they nodded and Arnsmyth's strange stay at the Greybeards had begun.

Once they were inside and Lydia had been sent to the guest room, thankfully, the Greybeards seemed to forget all about her and there was no awkward follow up to their previous conversation.

That didn't mean there was nothing strange or awkward about them. While they seemed readily eager to tell Arn all about the "Way of the Voice" and the Thu'um, they immediately hushed up if he asked too many questions or about their strangely absent leader, Paarthurnax.

Over the next few days, Arn learned the meaning of the words of power, such as the one he'd found in Bleak Falls Barrow, and that he gained power each time he absorbed a dragon's soul.

He even learned a new shout, Whirlwind Sprint, that he loved even more than the full Unrelenting Force that he'd learned.

The first Greybeard, Arngeir, had also pointed him to several other places where words of power might be found that he could check out.

They had also tasked him with a mission. Apparently, they still didn't fully believe him or it was some sort of initiation rite.

He had to go retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from its resting place as a final test. He wouldn't have minded except that it was halfway across Skyrim!

Thus after four strange and awkward days in the largely completely silent fortress of High Hrothgar, he gathered provisions for the trip back down, nodded goodbye to each of the Greybeards and walked outside to where Lydia was waiting to depart.

It was the first time he'd seen her in that four day stretch and was momentarily struck again by her beauty as she stood there at the bottom of the steps in her armor, raven hair blowing in the wind, her hand on her the curve of her hip, with that cute scrunched up face of hers when she was trying to think something through she was confused about.

"Ready to get back where we don't have to wear these things?" Arn motioned to the new furs they both had gotten from the Greybeards to keep them warm on the trek down.

She frowned at him, not paying any attention to the furs.

"I'm still mad at you"

"Ah, well, I still welcome it"

"What?"

"I've been alternately whispered and shouted at by strange old men for four days. Your voice is such a welcome reprieve, that it doesn't bother me at all if it's angry or not."

She didn't seem to budge in her demeanor, but Arn caught the slight upturn of the corners of her mouth that she tried to stop, but failed at, making her frown look so funny, he burst out laughing.

He was still laughing when they picked up their packs and she punched him facetiously in the shoulder, sighing in frustration, her frown gone completely as they set off down the mountain.

It took far less time going down than going up and they didn't have to camp in the coldest part or ponder awkward sleeping arrangements to stay warm.

They did have to each watch part of the night since wolves and trolls could be active at that part.

On the second day, Arn had exhausted telling Lydia everything about what he'd been through during the four days with the Greybeards.

He realized she'd been remarkably quiet over that span. He'd hoped that time would soften her anger about the sleeping incident.

He was pondering how to apologize or if he should even broach the subject when Lydia spoke up.

"So...if women aren't allowed to know or even BE there, isn't you telling me all this stuff...sort of...taboo?"

"You're going to see me doing it anyway and you'll be coming with me to get the horn whenever I get over there. So I think you've a right to know. Maybe you'll have some insight into them I didn't see. What did you think?"

Lydia then made a mock gasp and shrunk away from him in much the same manner the one Greybeard had done on the steps when they'd arrived.

They both laughed at that for a bit.

"So...what does that mean for insight?" asked Arn

"It means that despite how much they know and see, they probably aren't looking at the whole picture and aren't likely to tell you the whole story...I wouldn't trust them overly much" she replied more seriously.

"Well, they certainly wouldn't tell me the whole story...about anything. Despite how much they wanted to 'teach' me, I never got more than a few questions into any discussion before they would shut me down...odd...and unsettling" mused Arn.

They continued on down in silence for awhile before Lydia abruptly stopped him.

"What-" he asked as she held a hand up to his lips to silence him.

"Look, Arnsmyth, about what happened up there about sleeping with me...I...had some time to think about it...and I realized...I was-I..I acted rashly...I remembered what you said about your past...relations and realized...maybe it would have been painful for you...and I did not realize it...I thought you found my offer unsatisfactory for...other reasons"

Then she dropped to one knee with her head bowed to him.

"My Thane, I have wronged you and spoken harsh words to you in front of others. Please forgive me."

Arn quickly reached down, grabbed her by each arm, and pulled her up on her feet facing him.

"No, no, no. That's not it at all, Lydia."

_Arn, you fool. That was your way out. All you had to do was agree with her._

"I haven't had any nightmares about Desarra for awhile. Maybe it's been enough time mourning. Your offer was not out of line. It...just...took me a bit by surprise...and...I..uh" Arn faltered

"You what?" asked Lydia, staring wide eyed into his, hanging on whatever his next words were.

"Ah damn it! Lydia...you're a beautiful, strong, talented woman. No man in his right mind wouldn't want you...but...I am...an old man by comparison"

She frowned a bit incredulously at his assessment of himself, as though it were impossible that it mattered, before he continued.

"I am past the prime of my life, whereas you are just blossoming into it. Gods, I'll probably be eaten by a dragon within the year considering how bad things are here-" he joked before she pounded his chest with both hands, eyes watering with tears.

"Don't say that!"

"It's probably more true than either of us want it to be. Besides, I swore an oath...that I would never take advantage of you the way Balgruuf did. I want more for you than to be the bed trophy of some Thane. We go places and I see the way men look at you. I see the way you glare back. You're tired of being looked at as some piece of arse fit only to be rutted and put back."

He realized he had both her hands in his and her lower lip was beginning to quiver as she continued staring at him, wide eyed.

"I know you have a warrior's heart. I know you want to do whatever you can to save the people of Skyrim. So that's what I want for you. I want to help you become that warrior. So that when we go into a city or village, people don't look at us and say, 'Oh, there goes the dragonborn and his wench', they'll know better. Instead they'll say, 'Oh, there are skyrim's finest warriors!'"

She stood silently stiffling a sob, a lone tear creeping down her cheek as she avoided looking him in the eye.

When the silence continued, Arn slowly took her chin in his hand, raising her face to look him in the eye.

"Lydia...do you understand my meaning?"

She nodded affirmative, wiping her eyes fiercely to get rid of the tears.

"I thought you would be happy...have I..offended you in any way? If I have, let me know. This old warrior's been on the road a lot and not in the company of women for some time" said Arn, letting go of her chin and taking a step back.

When she looked more composed after a moment, she finally spoke.

"It's just that...no one's ever said or done anything like that for me before" she said, wiping a final tear away.

"They should have" replied Arn with a little venom to his tone as a few people came to mind he blamed for it.

"Why should the-?" she began to ask before Arn hushed her.

"Wait-do you smell that?"

They both stood silently a moment before Lydia registered the same smell Arnsmyth had: the smell of burning flesh.

Drawing their weapons, they advanced quicker down the path, conversation forgotten.

As they got lower, the smell got stronger and soon they saw a haze of gray smoke clogging the lower slopes of the mountain.

It took them another hour to move through the layer of unnatural cloud. Once they were below it, they looked out across the base of the mountain to the source of all the smells and smoke.

Down at the base of the mountain, an ugly belching pillar of black and gray smoke billowed up from a black area of forest and road that only days before had been the town of Ivarstead.

"Ivarstead...no..." whispered Lydia, giving voice to both their thoughts.

They scrambled down the rest of the trail, heading across the blackened stone bridge that looked to be all that was left of the village.

It looked like someone had unleashed the seven hells of Oblivion. Everything was turned to black ash. Bits and pieces of houses lay still crumbling and burning.

They looked for survivors but both knew even as they did so that they would probably find none. They hardly found any corpses, only a few horribly burned mounds of flesh that stank so bad, Lydia vomited in disgust.

As Arn moved around the remains of one of the houses, he heard a slight wheeze coming from the woods.

Running toward the sound, he came upon a hideous sight. One of the town guards lay in a burnt mess at the base of a tree, his armor melted into his flesh and oozing blood and gore from several places, but he was still alive as Arn could hear the irregular wheezing of his breaths.

Arn tried to apply a potion to at least ease his pain, but he writhed and sent the fluid spilling.

Arn knew from one look at him there was no healing that would help. Sadly, he gazed into the gross swollen red flesh where his face used to be.

"What did this?"

No reply. The man just gargled and wheezed as it was obvious he could not speak. Then he lashed out with a stub of a hand and groped at Arn's sword hilt before collapsing back against the tree. Arn knew what that meant.

"May Sovngarde ease your pain" he spoke before drawing his sword and stabbing decisively through the man's chest, putting him out of his misery.

"Did he say what happened?" asked Lydia somberly.

"No, but he didn't have to. Only one thing in Skyrim could have done this, a Dragon"

Arn felt the weight of it hit him hard. Before, he'd been unsure what to do or how exactly to go about it.

Now looking around at what was left of Ivarstead, he knew he had to find a way to stop the Dragons or more would suffer the same fate.


	9. Huntress and the Hunted:Part 1

The Huntress and the Hunted: Whiterun Interlude

The clash of steel echoed through the courtyard of Jorvasskr.

Arnsmyth fainted left then closed distance inside Vilkas' swing arc, bashing him with his shield and swatting the flat of his blade across his torso before backing off again.

"That's three touches total for the new blood" announced the twin Farkas gruffly from the veranda as the others watched them.

"Three to nothing," Aela whistled "You're starting to look like the old one, Vilkas"

Vilkas said nothing, just continued circling with his greatsword, glaring at Arn with the same look he'd given him at the farm when he'd bickered with him over killing the giant.

Then he lunged in fast, bringing down a mighty swing that Arn sidestepped and tried to counter, but Vilkas got his handle and blade up, shouldering them into Arn, knocking him momentarily off balance, allowing Vilkas to pivot and spin, bringing his blade across Arn's lower back.

"Ugm..." Arn groaned, glaring back at Vilkas. This was only supposed to be a touch match. Five touches wins. No actual striking.

Guess Vilkas really didn't like him, Arn thought as he felt blood trickling down his lower back. The slash must have either broken the metal plate or hit just next to where the plating ended at his side.

"Three touches to one" announced Farkas.

"If you call that a 'touch'," spat Arn with contempt.

Everyone was silent as they continued circling each other.

Vilkas moved to strike again, but this time Arn had been watching for the tell in his hands, exploding in on him again and catching his downswing with the edge of his shield before following through with a pommel strike from his sword hand to Vilkas' face and slashing with the flat of his blade across his torso as he kicked him away.

"Grrr..." Vilkas growled at him, spitting out blood, and Arn saw something in him was changing. His eyes were a different color.

"Four touches to one...Vilkas, be careful" Farkas announced.

They continued circling and there was no mistaking it now. Vilkas' eyes had turned from a dark brown to a silver white while he continued growling at him in a way that didn't seem right either.

Arn had seen men lose themselves to blood lust, but he'd never seen someone's eyes change color or shape. This had to be something else, some strange magic at work.

Then Vilkas attacked, but faster and far more fiercely than he had before or even than Arn thought should be humanly possible.

He only had half a second to get his shield up before Vilkas rained down blows so fierce and fast, it knocked Arn to the ground.

In the space of two or three seconds, Vilkas had hit him with six or seven repeated overhead swings of a greatsword. It was all Arn could do to block them, but the seventh blow hit so hard, he felt something snap in his shield arm and pain shoot up his arm.

"Vilkas! STOP!" yelled Farkas

"Vilkas! Get ahold of yourself!" followed Aela's shout.

Arn thought they were going to intervene but he couldn't wait that long.

Pulling his shield in closer to help his ailing arm, he rolled into Vilkas' legs as he was bringing his sword down again, knocking him down.

Ignoring the shooting pains in his shield arm, Arn sprang to his feet in time to be facing Vilkas on his feet again.

This time Arn went on the offensive, feinting in for a high shoulder strike before swinging underneath Vilkas' block and tapping him on the left side of his abdomen with the tip of his sword, pushing Vilkas away from him in the process.

"Five touches...I win" growled Arn, staring Vilkas straight down the blade of his sword.

"Grrraaaaaahhhh!" bellowed Vilkas.

"VILKAS! STOP!"

"VILKAS!"

Arn heard the cries of the others but they only just now started off the porch and were too far away to stop or intervene in any attack Vilkas made.

Vilkas growled again, louder this time and more feral. Arn thought his hair of his beard was also suddenly a lot longer.

Then in a feat of superhuman ability, Vilkas ran to the side, leaped on a rock sideways and used it to spring across straight at Arn twenty feet sideways in the air!

This would not stand.

"FUS RO!"

The partial word of power erupted from Arn, caught Vilkas midair, and sent him flying backward into the rocks like a rag doll, knocking his sword free and knocking him unconscious.

Then it was a rush of people converging, all the companions going over to Vilkas and huddling around him, meanwhile Lydia and a few other hopefuls came rushing up to check Arn over with a pouch full of potions.

"And here I thought the Companions were all about being honorable warriors" sneered Lydia angrily as she carefully tried to get at the cut on his back without causing anymore pain.

As Arn moved to allow one of the other new recruits to take his shield off, he gritted his teeth at the pain in his arm, which immediately caught Lydia's attention as she raced around to cradle his arm carefully with that cute scrunched up face of hers.

"You have more serious injuries...we're going to need to get that armor off" she said, carefully shepherding him toward Jorvasskr's door.

"Yes...we do need to get him out of that armor" said Aela, walking up to them.

Her honeyed tone and exaggerated cocking of her hip, combined with her already barely-there leather armor suggested she wasn't talking about healing, and no one could fail to notice it.

"Is there somewhere he can use where your friends aren't going to try anything else stupid?" snarled Lydia, glaring daggers at her.

"Sure, we can find a nice, private spot" Aela grinned at Arn who would've been more intrigued if the pain in his arm wasn't forcing all his concentration from him at the moment.

"It's...not...that...bad" gritted Arn, the pain making him annoyed at everyone.

"Yes, it is" insisted Lydia, returning her attention to him "We're going home...now" she glared back a warning at Aela, who simply shrugged and took a seat on the porch and crossed her long bare legs as she watched them go.

Once they were back in Breezehome, Arn got more cantankerous.

He wasn't used to anyone removing his armor or looking after him.

Part of him detested moving this way and that as Lydia unbuckled the clasps that held on the plating and slowly removed them, but part of him also felt comforted by her every touch, being able to forget the pain with every momentary brush of her fingers or arms on him.

Once the plating, leather jerkin, and cotton undershirt were gone, he sat bare-chested on the edge of his bed as Lydia sat behind him with a platter of poultices and potions, examining the ugly gash on his lower back.

"My arm is much worse than my back" he muttered, wincing again as he shifted.

"Yes, but once I get your back taken care of, you'll be able to lay down while I work on your arm" she replied

She began cleaning the wound up a little which caused him to stiffen slightly.

"Oh no...it's ok...just a little more" she almost whispered to him while calmly patting and caressing above his wound.

Arn couldn't hide his grin. He really was getting the baby treatment. Not that it was that bad. It was making him forget the pain and making him want awful badly to lean into the warm touch of her hand more.

"Hey! What are you grinning at?" she asked while applying a powerful regenerative potion that Arn could immediately feel taking effect, the pain in his back lessening to almost nothing.

"You...you're completely treating me like some milk drinker who's never gotten a splinter in his life"

"And how many times are you going to try to tell me 'It wasn't that bad?'" Lydia asked, the last part in a deep mockery of as much of a male voice as she could come up with.

"Why? It actually wasn't-"

"See! That's what men always say" she said, tapping a finger on his good shoulder chastisingly, "Then they groan and bellyache and secretly cry and let it fester...and in the end, they finally have to get more help"

Arn turned his head with a raised eyebrow as she continued.

"Raised in Kynareth's temple...remember? Do you know almost every grown man that showed up for healing was always worse off because he refused to come at first because 'it's wasn't that bad'?"

"Yes, well, I doubt most of them could do this" replied Arn as he moved his right hand over the left injured arm and began whispering the words to the healing spells, a blue light glowing from his hand and encircling his injured arm.

Lydia stared in silence as he moved up and down his injured arm twice before relaxing his right hand and flexing his left arm around to test how healed it was.

"You're a Restoration Mage too?!" she asked incredulously, moving off the bed to come around, watching him flex this way and that.

"No..no, no. I'm not gifted with enough magicka to be a mage, but I have tried to learn a few spells that will help in my line of work. If you spend your life with sword in hand, you have to expect you'll need healing or need to heal someone else at some point."

"So...once I got the pain level down, you were able to focus your willpower better?" she surmised, getting to her feet in front of him.

"Yeah...you know about restoration magicka?"

"Kynareth..remember?"

"Right...did you ever try practicing any?"

"No..I figured I wasn't magicka inclined enough to be a mage or healer, so better to focus on my martial skills"

They were both silent for a long moment before Arn realized she was staring at his bare chest.

Arn was going to give her a hard time, but for some reason the memory of her passionate kiss in the cave after they first met leaped unbidden into his mind and he found himself staring at her lips.

Knowing his loins were stirring and there would not be much to conceal it, Arn needed a way out.

"So...hungry?" he felt like he blurted out, startling her out of whatever she was thinking or fantasizing about. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best thing to say if they were both thinking about rutting.

"Oh...sure...uh...let me fix something for you" she said, a bit flustered before hurrying out of his room and downstairs.

After throwing his cotton undershirt back on, he took his time checking any damage to his armor before going downstairs to find Lydia standing over a stew bubbling on the newly installed oven.

"So much nicer to have some furnishings now" he said, easing into a chair at the table.

"Yeah..." she answered indirectly, not taking her attention off the stew.

Arnsmyth saw she had changed out of her armor at some point as well, now just left in her leather breeches and cotton undershirt.

Seeing her figure from behind in just the leather and cotton didn't help him take his mind off that kiss.

"So...you don't care for Aela that much it seems" he said, finding something to hopefully keep his mind off more intimate things.

"No...I don't" she replied, a frown crossing her face as she half turned to answer him.

"Is that because of what happened today or have you two never gotten along?"

"I...used to idolize Aela...when I was younger. She's about six years my senior. So I watched her do all sorts of things just before the time I could. She lived with her parents out in the wilds, got to hunt all sorts of things, and became a prominent member of the Companions...it was...everything I wanted...until a few years after my maidenhood."

"So...what changed?"

"When I had petitioned to join the companions at the end of my maidenhood, they said 'no' on account I was too young...even though I knew Aela had been accepted at a younger age than that and I knew she could've swayed them if she wanted."

"And?"

"And what?"

"I'm sensing more to this than that"

"Well...a few years afterward...when I had gone into the city guard, I found out about the men..." Lydia replied.

There was a long pause before she continued.

"Whereas I practically couldn't buy a man's attentions during my maidenhood, Aela had them following her in droves. That wouldn't have been bad, except she liked to play with them...string them along...seduce them, sometimes more than one at a time. Her nickname..the Huntress...isn't just about hunting animals" she said, turning to fix him with a stern look.

"So...you're jealous?" he muttered before instantly regretting his choice of words.

To his surprise, she didn't lash out. Worse, she stood with her head hanging in somewhat ashamed manner.

"I don't know...maybe...Just...it seems horrible to be given that much only to then use it like that...she doesn't even entertain marriage offers...it's like a joke to her or something when any man tries" she replied silently.

"And you're worried she'll get her claws into me?" surmised Arn.

"Yes..." said Lydia, blushing uncontrollably, avoiding looking up at him.

"Well, don't worry. I'm old, remember. It wouldn't be the first time a woman tried to seduce me" he replied matter of factly, retrieving some dishes for the meal.

"Oh..the old 'I'm too old for that' reason huh?" she brightened up at him with a raised eyebrow "So who were all these other seductresses that you left in your wake of oldness?"

He laughed.

"That would certainly NOT be appropriate dinner conversation. Maybe some time when I've had too much mead, then I'll talk about all my 'oldness' adventures" he replied before they both laughed and set about eating the stew she'd prepared.

Arn happily waited for his stew before having his heart jump into his throat as Lydia handed him a bowl. Her cotton undershirt had no buttons at the top and was partway open. When she leaned over to hand him the stew, he'd watched the fire light catch a glimpse straight down her shirt and between her large breasts hanging loose.

His loins were hardening again. Damn it. Couldn't he even eat a meal without being tormented so?

As he avoided looking at her, both of them eating in silence, Arn realized he needed to get away from her, even if just for awhile. Being around this beautiful woman was becoming harder and harder.

He needed to spend some time on his own, or better yet, with another woman. He hadn't had a woman besides Delphine in some time and he figured he was getting to the point if he didn't have nightmares about Desarra anymore, maybe he was ready to be able to please a woman properly again.

Maybe that's why he was having such a hard time focusing around Lydia. Maybe if he found another woman to be involved with, he wouldn't be thinking about her that way anymore.

He doubted Lydia would see it that way, though, and there was no way he was going to let her know he was struggling to keep her body out of his mind.

"So...I am going out tonight, I think" he said, breaking the long silence as they were finishing up.

"What do you want me to bring?" Lydia asked, brightening up.

"Nothing...I think you should stay and rest...I think I want to do some recon of the area northwest of here and I'll move a lot quicker and quieter on my own" he replied cautiously.

"You're the one who was injured today" she smirked, though he could see the hurt in her eyes at being told to stay.

"Yes, but I'm not tired and there's some things my mind won't let go. So I'd like to get a head start on finding the bandit hideouts for the Jarl"

"Ok...well...is there anything you want me to do while you're gone?"

"Just rest up...I'm sure looking after me and my 'oldness' must be tiresome sometimes" he replied, rising with a grin.


	10. Huntress and the Hunted: Part 2

The Huntress and the Hunted: Part 2

Three hours later, Arn found himself sneaking across the dusk-lit plains of western Whiterun hold.

It shouldn't have surprised him that he'd been besieged with requests for assistance as soon as they'd gotten back from High Hrothgar. Find this for me. Help me look for this missing person. Investigate this place for me. Kill this bandit if you see him.

Arn had no less than a dozen different people or groups asking things of him the moment he'd gotten back. Most of them were things he could do on his own time, but the Jarl's request to clean up the roads of bandits was one he didn't feel he could put off, particularly since he was going to be using those roads to travel and soon.

Clad in a some leather armor he'd scavenged from bandits previously, he was able to move a lot quieter and faster than he'd been wearing his heavier stuff with Lydia in tow.

He'd already located one bandit shelter off the road about a hundred paces, marking it on his map before moving on. Once he pinpointed the hideouts, the Jarl could send men to deal with them, provided there weren't overwhelming numbers.

Another hour passed and he had found a series of interconnected huts and a cave system with a lot of bandits an even some stormcloak clad men mulling around in them. Why were they there? Arn wondered.

As he marked his map and was about to crawl away, he heard a faint rustle off to his left.

Freezing, he slowly withdrew his dagger, placed it between his teeth and quietly and slowly sneaked around behind the noise, intending to just leave before he caught the brief glimpse of a woman's outline crouched among some bushes.

His first thought was that Lydia had followed him, but the brief glimpse was enough to tell him it wasn't her just based on the length of the woman's hair and didn't seem to be as curvy of body as Lydia. Lydia also wasn't skilled at sneaking...at all.

So who was it then? Not a sentry. Someone keenly intent on whatever the bandits were doing.

Arn mulled it over for a bit, but his curiosity finally got the better of him and he began sneaking closer to the woman who was now a lot more obscured by brush.

He had just gotten where he thought he'd get a better glimpse of her, when she rose off her belly to her hands and feet and sidled out of her brush almost completely silently and began sneaking on all fours straight toward him!

She couldn't possibly know he was there. He hadn't made any noise at all, but on she came straight for him. All he could do now was try to stay still and hope that in the now darkness broken only by moonlight amongst the clouds, she wouldn't see him.

But Arn was not so lucky. Instead she crept right up to him and sat on her haunches.

"Hello, Dragonborn" whispered Aela the Huntress.

Arn didn't answer. Instead, he just motioned further away, indicating they should move farther away from the bandit camp before talking further which she nodded to.

Half an hour of sneaking later, Arn pulled up behind a rocky outcropping.

"I have to hand it to you, Dragonborn, not many people have ever snuck up on my arse like that" she purred, crossing her legs and stretching her arms as she sat down.

"Maybe you're just off your game...Huntress"

"Oh no, my game doesn't even know I'm nearby yet" she nodded back toward the bandits.

"You're here for the bandits...by yourself?"

"Sure, hey if you can take out a stronghold of them with just you and your housecarl, how hard can it be?" she grinned at him

"Thanks for the praise" mocked Arn

"No housecarl?" she asked teasingly "trying to challenge yourself this time?"

"I'm here on the Jarl's request. Once I can locate and get some information on these camps, the Jarl can send men in force to deal with them"

"Right...so why do it at night, alone?"

"If you truly are a Huntress, then you should already know the answer to that"

"Yes, I've always enjoyed the night a lot more for the freedom of movement it gives...and yet why spend the night alone?" she asked with another grin, the double entendre causing Arn to smirk.

"Lydia is not skilled at sneaking. So I gave her the night off."

"Yes...she never was very subtle at anything" Aela pondered aloud

They were silent for a moment as Aela looked up at the moon and Arn started suddenly as he realized her eyes had changed color just like Vilkas' had!

"What happened with Vilkas today?" Arn abruptly changed the subject, intent on finding out what was going on.

"Eh..he just got carried away. He objected to you joining...remember?" she tried to brush him off.

"I'm no fool, Aela. I've seen plenty of men get lost in bloodlust, but they never get supernatural abilities like that and their eyes never change color like this!" he said, grabbing her by the chin and turning her to look him in the eye.

She jerked her head free and grinned at Arn momentarily before becoming serious.

"Vilkas was a fool. The secret is not mine to share, but if you swear on your honor not to tell a soul, I will explain it to you. You deserve that much after what happened and given you're going to be a great member of the Companions" she said as the grin returned.

Arn thought about it for a moment before replying.

"You have my word. I, Arnsmyth Bulgoar, swear not to tell a soul"

"Come then, and I'll show you" Aela said, rising to her feet and motioning back toward the Bandit camp.

"You said you'd explain it"

"I like showing things off a lot better than explaining" she winked at him.

"I can see that..." he muttered, trailing behind her with a moonlit view of her skin and leather strapped armor riding up on her buttocks as she crawled along in front of him.

At length, they got to the overlook where Aela had been earlier, watching the bandits.

Arn turned to her questioningly and saw her eyes had gone completely silver white again as she smiled at him.

"You're supposed to be a good warrior...don't disappoint me" she whispered to him as she stood up.

Arn turned quickly to see if any of them had noticed before turning back to grab her and pull her down.

"What are you doing? Get down!" he hissed as silently as he could, turning back to her to be stunned into silence as he saw her unclasp the links at the tops of her shoulders and let her armor fall to her feet.

Then she reached down and slipped her fingers inside the leather underpants she wore and slipped them down her legs and off, grinning seductively at him the whole time.

"Whatever you do...don't follow me inside the caves" she whispered as she suddenly hopped out of the brush and down from the bluff, walking straight into the camp amongst the Bandits!

Arn felt his hands moving, setting arrows in the ground from his quiver and arming his bow, even though the whole time he felt his eyes riveted to her naked body as she sauntered into the open.

She didn't have quite the curviness Lydia did-NO! He refused to think about that.

She was taller than he'd expected, maybe an inch or two taller than he, filled with a lithe and grace of a hunter. As she sauntered forward, all of them immediately stopped and stared, her walk changed to twitch her buttocks in the most convincing of fashions, making Arn feel every twitch in his hardening cock as well.

She came to a stop by a campfire in an exaggerated fashion, cocking her hip to one side.

If it weren't for the bandits, Arn thought he would probably would have started stroking his own cock, but the bizarreness of the situation had him start looking around at the men closing in on her.

"IT'S A GHOST! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" screamed one of the bandits before shrinking away.

"Shut up! Vargoth!" a few others retorted as they closed on her.

"NAKED WOMEN DON'T JUST WALK OUT OF THE WOODS! SHE'S A GHOST, I TELL YOU!" the one named Vargoth continued.

Arn had knocked an arrow, but was unsure who to take out first since he still had no idea what she was doing.

Seeing no one was listening to him, the one called Vargoth took off running.

Grinning seductively, Aela then got down on all fours, spreading her legs provocatively and looking over her shoulder back at Arn in the brush who gulped at the sight of her arsehole and breasts hanging down and forced himself to look at the bandits instead.

"So, who are you, woman? Looking to join us?" said one, dropping his breeches to the ground as he stepped around behind her.

"I'm no ghost...but you are all going to die..." purred Aela before beginning to contort in an unnatural fashion, twitching and pounding the ground, gritting her teeth and growling in the same manner Arn had heard Vilkas do.

"What in Oblivion...?" muttered one of them as they all slowly began backing away from her.

"Grrrrrooooooaaaaahhhhhhhh!" she growled as Arn saw Aela start to change, becoming more muscular, her torso growing in size as auburn hair began to emerge all over her body.

Her neck and head began growing in size as she pounded the ground again and Arn saw in a few seconds as she howled, she had fully turned into a werewolf.

The bandits only had time to scream or utter an exclamation before she was up on two feet, snatching one in each clawed hand and clattered them together like broken toys.

Arn watched as they scurried for their weapons they'd set aside when she'd walked in naked.

He took careful aim and began picking any off that got to them.

The others were getting eviscerated by Aela. Crushing, disembowling, mutilating, it was a scene of auburn furred gore as she tore through the scrambling bandits who screamed for mercy but got none.

Then Arn saw stormcloaks and bandits began coming out of one of the cave openings.

Taking aim, he shot one through head taking aim at Aela with a bow, then another with a crossbow.

The third had a large shield and sword and had noticed the arrows from Arn's position and charged, but he didn't make it far.

Aela leaped from her position and landed atop him, crushing him to the ground and with a single swipe, took part of his head clean off with a clawed hand.

Arn let fly with another arrow that zipped right by Aela, hitting an Axe wielding bandit in the throat that had just emerged behind her.

At that, she spun and charged into the cave.

Arn made his way down off the bluff and began finishing off any bandits that were unfortunate enough to survive the gorings and injuries they'd received.

The whole time he could hear screams and cries echoing out of the cave along with the growling and howling of Aela.

Once he'd scavenged anything of worth off what was left of the Bandit camp, he pondered going in the caves.

It had gotten quiet and he was worried. No telling what was down there, but her warning kept him in place. He began to wonder if he should even stay there, or if she was completely out of control once she changed.

Feeling more uncertain what to do as more time passed, Arn returned to his spot on the bluff, watching the cave openings for any sound or sign.

He waited another hour, then just as he wondered if he should just leave he saw Aela emerge in werewolf form from the cave, her auburn fur soaked and splattered in blood and gore.

She wasn't dashing around energetically, though. Instead, she seemed to be staggering and alternately dragging her feet.

She turned to look up at him momentarily before howling loudly at the moon and shambling off away from him, turning occasionally and looking back at him.

She wanted him to follow?

He started off, but thinking for a moment, stopped, picked up her armor and underpants and followed after.

About another hour passed of him following, he stopped to find her huddled under a small waterfall running over some rocks.

He stopped and waited, wondering if there was some signal she would try to make, but she made no movement or noise at all.

After awhile, he crept close enough to discern the slow breathing and closed eyes denoting sleep.

She was asleep? What was he supposed to do now?

He decided to reconnoiter the area while he thought about it, leaving her stuff in a pile at the foot of a tree.

After awhile, he returned to find Aela was no longer a werewolf. She lay curled up naked just out of the flow of the small waterfall, fast sleep.

Well, that was a relief. Now what? Should he wake her? What if she wasn't fully turned back yet? He couldn't just leave her laying there.

He sighed and set himself up in a good sentry position in a tree, overlooking the surrounding area in case any threats appeared and pondered the implications of the secret knowledge that Aela and at least some if not all the other Companions were actually Werewolves.

He wasn't sure how much time passed but the reddish orange glow of dawn was just appearing on the horizon and Arn was beginning to feel very tired when he heard a yawn and looked down to see Aela stretching herself awake.

He'd forgotten all about her nakedness for the moment until he looked down and saw her breasts jiggling slightly as she shook her wet hair and stretched her arms.

Hopping down from his perch, he retrieved her clothes and moved to hand them to her, but she didn't take them.

She looked at them for a moment before pushing them away and looking up at him with a half lidded look that indicated a hunger of a different nature.

Arn wasn't sure who moved first, whether he reached for her or if she grabbed him. Regardless, they were suddenly pressing themselves together fiercely against the rock, turning this way and that, her lips locked on his, hands vice locked around his neck with her long legs locked around his waist.

Arn had known in the back of his mind this was probably going to happen ever since Lydia had talked with him about her.

Part of him felt bad for validating anything Lydia had cautioned about, but then again why was he worried about her right now? Part of the reason he was doing this was to keep her out of his mind.

As if to reassure himself, he threw himself into caressing and kissing Aela more, though as he did so, he realized he was tasting blood every time he kissed her.

The more he did so, the stronger it became and very unpleasant.

So he set about kissing her everywhere but her lips, trailing kisses down her neck and across her right breast, lightly sucking on a nipple in passing before continuing down her slim, lithe abdomen to her hips.

Realizing her back was rubbing against rock, he pulled her into him, moving them off away from the waterfall and back under the tree he'd been in before setting her gently on her back, cupping one of her soft buttocks in each hand, and pulling her dripping woman hood up to his mouth.

She cried out and arched her back, clasping his head into her as he plunged his lips and tongue into her lower lips and explored.

"YES!...Oh...yes...more...Dragon...born!" she gasped as he continued exploring.

This continued shortly before she pulled him out and began pulling at his leather armor that Arn realized he still had on.

It only took a short while for him to get rid of his leathers, and once he was naked as well, resumed his exploration of her womanhood with his kisses, occasionally caressing the nub there, causing her to continue gasping and moaning.

When Arn thought she was just about to explode, He pulled out of her, causing her to grasp at his head fiercely to pull it back in, but instead he moved up to her breasts, lining up his now long hardened cock at her entrance.

Without waiting, he slowly pushed inside, the moist warmth of her womanhood almost causing him to explode instantly.

"OH!...Yes...Oh!" she continued moaning, her grin returning to her features as she caressed and pulled his head into her bosom further.

Her breasts were not large, but had a lengthened quality to them that seemed in keeping with the rest of Aela's tall grace.

Cupping one with his left hand, he rubbed and pinched the nipple while licking, nipping, and kissing the right one as he slowly began thrusting in and out of her, feeling his loins tightening.

With his right hand he moved behind and caressed her right buttock moving over and around it.

He continued thrusting into her harder and harder, faster and faster, her cries becoming louder.

"Yes! Oh! Yes! Harder!"

He suddenly felt her arc up against him and heard a loud gasp as she exploded fluid over his sheathed cock which in turn caused the pressure building in him to release, exploding inside her and feeling far better about it than he did with Delphine.

Although he felt a huge surge of relief and a bit tired, Aela didn't let up one bit.

Instead, she pushed him over onto his back, straddling him, that seductive grin on her face and still her eyes sparkling with the glint of the rising sun over the horizon.

Agonizingly slowly, she squatted down, teasing his cock with her womanhood, her strong grip keeping his upper body in place as his lower body moved of its own volition, trying to get back into the wet warmth of her womanhood.

She teased him a moment longer before making sure his cock was hardened again and abruptly sheathed herself on it with a huge sigh of joy.

"OH...Yes...you...don't...disap..point..." she gasped as she began rising up and dropping down on him as he tried to match her movements with thrusts of his own.

The cold air of the morning mists only made the warmth of her core that much more intoxicating as he pushed up into her as she came down on him harder and harder each time.

He reached up one hand to caress her right breast as she was already caressing her left breast with her own hand, gasping and moaning.

Their grunts and the slaps of her buttocks against his hips echoed in the small glade off the rocks.

This time, he exploded first, his seed pumping until it dribbled out her opening over his cock and onto his hips as she kept plunging up and down, throwing her auburn hair this way and that in ecstasy.

A little while longer and she grunted much louder, her body spasming as she came again as well.

They gripped each other for awhile, panting heavily, Arn still sheathed inside her warm snatch.

He smiled up at her as he felt himself hardening again, but to his surprise, she pulled away from him and got off with a loud slurpy pop and walked away toward the waterfall.

"Done already? I thought you'd be up for more?" he teased, half expecting her to turn around and jump back on him.

She simply turned to grin her seductive grin at him again.

"A Huntress can't share all her tricks...otherwise you won't wanna come back for more..." she purred as she began washing herself off in a more tantalizing way than she needed.

Arn's heart fell a bit. They'd just rutted for a good hour and obviously both of them wanted more, but she was putting a stop to it because...she wanted him to come back for more?

Arn sighed and sat up. His cock was in no mood to be strung along or toyed with.

Arn wondered if she were doing this as bait to join the companions. Why couldn't it just be two people enjoying themselves? Why did there have to be any ulterior motive, though Arn felt himself cringe at that, realizing he had an ulterior motive, mainly to get Lydia off his mind.

Lydia had been right, though. Aela liked this control over men she possessed a bit too much for Arn's liking.

Even as Arn watched her running the water caressingly over her breasts and over the auburn patch of hair between her legs, he knew this had to be a one-time thing.

Reluctantly, Arn rose, went to the waterfall, and washed himself off as well, despite his raging hard cock initially and despite having her standing naked only a foot away.

He was silent and avoided looking at her. Once they'd sufficiently gotten clean from their activities, they redressed in their armor and Arn checked the surroundings, trying to mentally note how far they were from Whiterun.

"So...will I be seeing more of you at Jorrvaskr?" she asked coyly.

"Maybe" he responded as nonchalant as possible.

"Only maybe?" she asked, trying not to show surprise.

Arn thought about listing the pros and cons of joining or that he couldn't be bought with a good rutting, but he didn't feel like getting into any arguments with her.

Now that the excitement from his loins was dying down, the tiredness of being up all night was setting in.

"I'm the Dragonborn. I already have a lot on my plate"

"I see. Well, I'd wager being part of the Companions could help lift some of that load" she said, sounding less sensual and more introspective for a moment.

"Yes...but I'm still finding out what that burden entails"

"Well, you've passed your entrance trial and you've got Farkas' and my recommendation...so, whenever you're ready, look us up, okay?" she sounded uncertain at first but finished on a more reassuring tone, as if to reassure him that it was the right path to take.

He simply grunted his assent as she turned to leave.

"One more thing...Lydia said she tried to join the Companions but was disallowed because of her age, even though others joined younger? Why?" asked Arn, immediately wondering why he'd broached the subject.

Aela turned and stared at him in surprise.

"I really must be off my game if we just made love but you're asking me about another woman"

"She's my housecarl"

"Have you sampled _her_ goods yet?" Aela retorted, crossing her arms, the seductive grin returning.

Arn stepped closer to her and glared as he replied.

"Why is it all you people from Whiterun ever seem to do is undermine whatever she tries to do? She tries to join the companions? you say no. Tries to become a city guard? gets sent on the worst assignments. Becomes a housecarl? you assume she's some rutting toy for her Thane. Why is it you all treat her like an outsider?"

"You mean the Jarl never told you?" asked Aela with a raised eyebrow.

"All I was told was not to ask any more questions!"

"And yet you still ask them? Huh...well, guess I'm just spilling all kinds of secrets tonight...err morning" she replied, looking around at the sun-brightened forest.

"So?" asked Arn impatiently as Aela sighed in an annoyed fashion.

"Look, I don't know specifics, but the rumor has always been that Lydia is the bastard child of Jarl Balgruuf and a high ranking Imperial noble from the Imperial City"

"Why would that keep her out of the Companions?"

"We were...informed...by someone that she was too important to be put in the peril we face, but that she was not allowed to know"

"As opposed to following around a Dragon magnet now?"

"Is that an ability the Dragonborn has?" she asked, surprised.

"Don't change the subject"

"I don't know any details. You're talking politics now...something the Companions try to avoid..."

"Right..." stated Arn scornfully, beginning to think less and less of the Companions the more he learned.

Aela turned to leave again before looking back one more time.

"For what it's worth...I do feel bad for her. She...deserved better than what she's gotten"

"You could've tried being more friendly and less like the others. She used to idolize you as a girl, you know"

Aela's countenance fell and he saw her look genuinely sad for the first time.

"Yes...well, at least things are looking up for her now"

"How so?"

"Well, she has you now"

"Yes, she's my _Housecarl_"

"Is that all she is to you?"

"What makes you think there's anything else to it?"

"Why are you so doggedly defending her then?" her sly grin returned

Arnsmyth simply huffed and rolled his eyes in reply as she nodded with a smirk and departed.

Several hours later, Arn groaned as he shoved through the door to Breezehome and un-shouldered his pack, suddenly surprised to find Lydia sitting at the table.

She had fallen asleep reading a book with her sword in one hand and a spent candle sitting just out of reach.

He chuckled and slowly pried the sword from her hand, carefully sliding the book out from underneath her face, and then slowly lifted her out of her chair, one arm under her legs, the other around her back and carried her up the stairs.

Despite everything he'd just done that evening, the soft warmth of her dark hair under his chin as her head lay against his shoulder, soft breaths rising and falling, was intoxicating and he felt like not setting her down, but he carefully laid her down in her bed and tucked the fur covers over her before retiring to his room.

Arn was so tired that he barely had any time to ponder the revelations he'd learned before he drifted off into dreamless sleep.


	11. Horn and Homeland: Morthal pt 1

Author's note: I will be out of town and on holiday hiatus for probably the next two weeks. Thanks for those of you following and happy holidays.

The Horn and Homeland: Ustengrav and Morthal

"ARN! BEHIND YOU!" screamed Lydia.

Arn rolled left just as a greatsword clanked into the stone floor where he'd been. More draugr were pouring down the ramp into the area at the bottom of a large chamber where they'd been fighting for the last few minutes.

Was there no end to these things?

Arn realized with desperation they were getting overrun. Lydia was surrounded by three of them. Arn had two in front of him and two coming up from behind and about half a dozen more were shambling down the ramp.

"FUS RO DA!" the force of the shout erupted going out from Arn, sending the two draugr in front of him along with most of the ones on the ramp flying off the side into the abyss below.

He spun around in time to block another greatsword blow with his shield, parrying the other one's axe blow with his sword.

Sidestepping left, he avoided another sword blow and came down on the draugr's arm, severing it and finishing it off with a slice across the neck.

He'd just pulled his sword free and blocked another axe blow when he felt his vision going blurry. Not now...he hadn't even seen any runes. There must be a word wall, as the Greybeards called them, somewhere close to him that he hadn't noticed before they'd been ambushed.

Now he was too close to it and images and words came rushing through his mind. He tried to resist, but that seemed to make it worse. He didn't even have time to call out for Lydia as he felt the magic seize hold of him, his vision darkening.

Fine way to die, Arn, taken out by a draugr because you're stuck staring at some rutting wall and on the first time you take Lydia with you.

There was no life flashing before his eyes as all that occupied his mind was the dragon tongue words as they imprinted themselves through the magic in his blood.

Then it was over and he was on his knees panting, staring at the moss covered stone alcove in front of him.

Spinning around, he realized Lydia was crouched next to him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked, staring at him with those brandy brown eyes of hers.

"What do you mean 'Am I okay?' Are you okay?" he asked, turning this way and that to look at all the defeated draugrs lying dead or dead again, however you want to put it.

"I took care of them" she said, not removing her gaze from him "but what happened to you there? You didn't move or say a word for a minute there...just stared at this wall..."

"It was the dragon speech. Walls like these are etched in dragon tongue and usually the dragon blood in me reacts with them when I get close, making me lose control" he replied a bit sorrowfully.

"What exactly happens?"

"I end up learning a word or words in the dragon tongue...usually only one, but sometimes more"

"Hrm...well, do you feel alright?" she asked, looking him over as though the experience might have injured him in some way.

Arn noticed as she said it that she grimaced slightly, trying not to grit her teeth.

He turned his head and eyed her suspiciously.

"You never told me if you were fine or not"

"It's...nothing major" she replied with an obvious grimace this time.

Arn gently grabbed her by the shoulder and carefully turned her around to see a jagged cut on her hip between the back plate and leg plate of her steel armor.

"Lay down on your side" he ordered.

"But I'll be fine" she protested

"Now who's the one saying 'It's not that bad'?" he mocked in the best Lydia voice he could muster.

She realized with a smile she was beaten and lay down as he removed a couple of potions and tried to move the armor aside to get at the cut.

After fumbling awkwardly for a few minutes, Lydia finally huffed, reached down and with a grimace shoved her armored leggings and breeches down to her thighs, exposing the creamy white skin of her midsection.

Unfortunately, the cut had delved right into where her smallpants went around the side. So when she shoved her breeches down, her smallpants came loose with them, leaving her naked from waist to thigh.

An intoxicating view marred only by the nasty cut Arn had been trying to get at.

Focus on the cut, Arn. Focus on the cut, he thought as he tried to resist taking in the firm curves of her buttocks and hip down to what her womanhood might look like.

"You didn't really have to do that" he muttered, trying not to sound interested or betray how hardened his cock was beginning to get.

"You were taking your sweet time, besides, these are useless and uncomfortable now" she replied, reaching down and pulling loose the cut smallpants and tossed them off into the abyss.

"Don't waste any potions if we don't have to. I trust your restoration stuff" she said in a very nonchalant manner.

"Yeah, but I need to put something on it to prevent disease infection"

"Fine" she grimaced slightly as he dabbed on the contents of a potion.

Once he was finished, he slowly set his hand on her hip, the bluish light of his healing spell lighting up the darkness more than he'd thought it would, making him glance around to make sure nothing was suddenly appearing.

When he looked back to her, she had her eyes scrunched shut, biting her lip. The healing shouldn't hurt.

"Are you okay? Is something I did hurting more?" he asked with some concern.

Arn realized by now the cut was completely gone on the surface and he had been dragging his hand caressingly with the bluish healing light across from the top of her thigh to the top curve of her buttock and then back again.

"No, no, no. It's...fine...just...a little...more" she seemed to gasp.

Arn realized she wasn't in pain at all. She was...pleased by his touch...a lot. He also realized his cock was straining against his own armored breeches.

"That-uh-should be good-I think" he said, abruptly pulling away.

_Get a hold of yourself, Arn, you fool. It's only been three days since you were rutting with Aela in the woods and you're already starting with this again._

"Yeah-uh-it's much better, I think too" she stuttered, sitting up and turning away from him in a sudden display of modesty, though it still left him with a complete view of her buttocks as she pulled her breeches back up.

"By the way, exactly how many draugr did you have to kill while I was standing here stupefied?" Arn asked, both genuinely curious and anxious to find some other subject to get his mind on.

"Well...um...six, I think" she replied a little sheepishly as they collected their gear.

"Six?! Wow, I guess I really owe you one" he exclaimed.

"No, you don't, silly. I'm your housecarl, remember. It's my job to save your arse, especially when it's standing there staring stupefied at everything" she smirked at him, feeling pretty good about finally venturing into somewhere along with him.

He eyed her mischievously but before he could come up with any retort, she continued in a little more serious tone.

"Besides, if you're really keeping tally, I'm pretty sure it would take me a long time to catch up on all the ones I owe you"

"Now, now, no more talk about that" he replied, not wanting her to think about what happened to her at all. "We really should push on and get this blasted horn the Greybeards want"

TWO HOURS LATER

"Damn it!" Arn yelled, kicking a skull across the platform and skipping off into the water on either side of the ramp to get to the pedestal they were at.

"What did the note say?" asked Lydia

"Some rutting fool took the horn and wants me to go all the way back to Riverwood Inn to get it! TO PROVE MYSELF!"

"Did they give a name?"

"No! Just signed...a friend" he sneered in a mocking tone.

He huffed in anger, kicked the rib cage of the aforementioned skeleton again and sat down, frustrated beyond belief.

"What is it with these people?! The Greybeards won't tell me anything because they don't trust me. Whoever this is lets me travel halfway across Skyrim, only to demand I go all the way back to prove myself to them. Jarl Balgruuf heralds me with title and lands but refuses to tell me anything about...ah! Damn them all!" he yelled again in anger echoing into the crypt they'd spent a day clearing.

He realized as he put his head in his hands, massaging the headache of frustration that Lydia sat down next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, I can't speak for those people, but I trust you and I'm sure eventually others will see that you're exactly the man they need for these kinds of times...I'm not sure my saying so matters, but well...there it is" she said, looking into his eyes with a reassuring smile with her hand now at the base of his neck, consciously or subconsciously caressing the small locks of hair there.

Arn didn't say anything but her saying so did help...a lot. From wanting to just go kill the first person he came across, he felt more relaxed and the stress of wondering why people kept treating him this way was suddenly forgotten.

He pondered in silence for awhile, Lydia continuing her massaging of his neck as he thought.

"You know, we're not that far from Morthal. I grew up just to the northwest of there. I think it would be nice to see what it's like now. Maybe find old friends...maybe find some people that rutting trust me for once" he stated, rising to his feet with purpose.

"We could also use the opportunity to resupply" said Lydia, going to fetch the packs.

"Hopefully, the place isn't as much a disaster as the rest of Skyrim" said Arn wistfully, several childhood memories coming to mind.

Later that night, Arn sat by the bedrolls with Lydia's head in his lap as she slept. Sometimes she slept fine, like when they were in Breezehome, but when they were out in the wilds, she typically didn't and he would hold her hand or keep her head in his lap to shoo away the nightmares.

He wasn't uncomfortable about it anymore. Tonight though, his thoughts went back to his childhood.

Growing up in the swamps north of Morthal, he'd had plenty of adventures getting chased by a Spriggan or trying to trap a mudcrab but still fairly harmless compared to what seemed to be the perils of the roads these days.

The next day, Arn found himself in much better spirits at the thought of arriving in Morthal and seeing some old but known faces.

As they travelled through a pass toward the ravine Morthal lay housed in, Lydia's questions interrupted his reverie.

"So who was Jarl here when you left?"

"Sigmund Ravencrone...though, I heard about his death some time ago from another Nord in Cyrodiil."

"Idgrod Ravencrone has been the Jarl for awhile now"

"What? They made Idgrod the Jarl?" Arn asked incredulously.

"Yes, why?"

"Well, when I was a boy, she was a bit...well odd. Even though she was the Jarl's wife, no one knew quite what to make of her, though she was always nice to me. It was stuff about magic and visions that she would talk about that seemed to put people off."

"What did she used to say?"

"I don't know. I was a boy. I wasn't interested or even knew much about what visions or magic things people discussed."

"Anyone else there you might still kno-" her question cut short as they both fell silent to the unmistakable bellowing of a dragon echoed in the distance.

"No, not Morthal too..." Arn hissed, picking up speed.

They came over the last hill and looked down into the valley below to see a large red dragon sitting atop one of the larger structures breathing fire and smoke at the scurrying dots of people.

"Potions only!" shouted Arn as they both dropped their packs and started sprinting.

Lydia had the potions separated in a separate pouch so when she dropped her pack, she retained that pouch and kept pace with Arn.

It seemed like eternity and Arn's heart stung at every scream or yell he heard as they ran down the hill into the town.

As they arrived, Arn saw the dragon lunge down and snap a guardsman whole into its jaws as several others scrambled, firing arrows that mostly missed or plinked off plaiting, not finding their mark.

"AIM FOR THE WINGS! BRING IT DOWN!" bellowed Arn as he took several potions from Lydia and poured them over the steel armor he wore.

The dragon swooped off the building top and across the small lake in the middle of town, crashing through the roof into a house opposite and snapping up whoever was unlucky enough to be hiding inside.

Arn looked at the scene of chaos around him, fires raging on almost every building, a few bodies mangled and burnt here and there, guards huddled at the corners of buildings scurrying around enough to fire their bow before retreating, the smoke billowing out of two completely destroyed houses and townspeople huddled or scurrying this way and that.

"GET THEM INTO THE LAKE! GET THE PEOPLE INTO THE WATER!" continued Arn, Lydia repeating him, beginning to usher the people huddled in place into the lake as Arn circled toward the dragon.

Arn continued yelling at people, even as he knocked and fired arrow after arrow into the dragon's right wing.

It only took about four arrows before it turned directly toward him, jaws gleaming crimson with blood and lunged through the wooden front of the house directly toward him.

Arn tried to line up a shot on its head, maybe even an eye shot and let fly, but the arrow hit just below its eye, though the impact near such a tender area cause it to momentarily recoil, giving Arn time to draw sword and shield.

Then the dragon belched flame. Arn was going to jump off into the lake, but had an idea and figured this was the best time as any to test the enchantments he'd paid Farengar to put on the steel armor in combination with the potions he'd drenched himself with.

Ordinarily, the Dragon's fiery breath would melt to a crisp whoever stood in its path particularly for any length of time. Not this time, though.

Arn crouched down, shield in front, the flames parting around him, the aura of magic visible to him along with the vapors of flame resistance of the potions he'd used.

He heard Lydia screaming his name frantically from across the lake partway and hoped she wasn't too terrified for his safety. They had talked about this plan before, just not when he would employ it.

Just as he was starting to feel his armor heating up and starting to burn underneath, the dragon let up, suddenly a lot closer and surprised Arn was not a pile of ash.

Arn sprinted forward, his whole armor still wreathed in flames from the aftermath of fiery breath.

Before the dragon could move or react, he stabbed directly into its face, aiming for the eye, but instead got the nostril when the dragon recoiled a little.

It recoiled its head up into the air before Arn had a chance to pull the sword out. At the sudden jerk of a stop up in the air, both Arn and his sword came dislodged from the dragon and continued flying up and backward.

He was probably thirty feet in the air now.

Not good.

He caught a glimpse of Lydia closing from the left of his view, still firing arrows.

Then he crashed into an unexpectedly soft landing in the straw matting of the roof of the Jarl's longhouse.

Just as he was thankful for the straw, though, the back of his head met a wooden beam very hard, a resounding crack ringing through his helmet.

That was gonna hurt in the morning.

As he got his footing, the dragon took wing and flew directly at him, intending to land on him feet claws first.

Arn took two steps back, then waited a second to get what he thought the distance was right as the dragon was almost on him.

"WULD NA KEST!"

Arn exploded in a whirlwind sprint straight into the dragon, blade first, the force of movement helping plunge the lightning crackling blade to the hilt into the dragon's torso right where the neck met the chest plating of the dragon.

"NOOOOOOAAAAAA DOVAAAAAKKKHHHHIIIINNN!" growled the dragon as the power of the hit snapped it backward in midair, sending it crashing backward to the ground, shredding a dock, the broken wood cutting and impaling it in several spots, Arn riding it down with a firm grasp on his sword.

Before it could even flail or recover, Arn had removed his sword and charged its head.

It barely had time to right itself onto all fours amidst the wreckage of the dock and shallow water as Arn leaped onto its neck, plunging his blade down through its head.

It immediately shuddered slightly and then stilled with a collapse.

Arn stood astride its neck, gasping for breath as he immediately looked around to find Lydia running towards him with relief.

Not surprisingly, everyone in view was staring at him and the dragon.

"Are you okay?" she asked, mirroring the smile he had, they always had after defeating something like this.

Arn realized then there were still flames flaring up here and there on his armor.

"Well, it did its job, though I still feel a little sizzle" he remarked, causing her to frown a little and rummage through the pouch for a potion.

"Don't...save it for one of them" Arn said, motioning his hand around to the town "I have a feeling there's a lot of people that will need it"

"Right" said Lydia, scurrying away to help the guards as they helped people out of the lake and burning buildings and some were already setting up bucket lines from the lake to put out the fires.

As Arn caught his breath and moved off the dragon back toward the Jarl's longhouse, he kneeled again, feeling the pain in the back of his head from that beam.

He looked up to see an elderly woman in nice garb with a sweet smile on her face.

"Welcome, Flamewalker" she said in a squeaky but sure voice.

"Wh-What?" asked Arn as he was suddenly aware of the growing sound of wind coming from behind him where the dragon was.

"The one who walks in flames...I saw your coming..." was all Arn heard her say before the magic of the soul absorption seized him, lifting him in the air and filling his mind with images, some of them horrifying as he saw people chewed and devoured.

Instead of coming back out of it though, his mind went blank and he passed out.


	12. Strangers and Soothsayers: Morthal pt 2

Strange Happenings and Soothsaying: Morthal pt. 2

Arn awoke in a haze, a throbbing in his head keeping him still for the moment as he tried to get his bearings.

For some reason, the first thing he thought of was the feeling of Lydia pressed against him like they'd been that one night up on High Hrothgar.

_Fool, get that out of your mind._

Then, his memory wandered to more recent times, rutting with Aela in the woods, the secrets he'd discovered, the crypt of Jurgen Windcaller, the dragon in Morthal, and Idgrod Ravencrone calling him 'Firewalker'.

He wondered again why he'd left Whiterun in such a rush. He'd sent a note to the companions that he would take up a position with them but had his own missions to deal with. He still wasn't sure what to do about the possible implications of Lydia's heritage.

On one hand, he didn't think it mattered for the future at all. On the other hand, he didn't want to be surprised if someone showed up someday to take her away. He also didn't want to somehow become a scapegoat if something did happen to her, ...or maybe that's what they wanted.

He just didn't know.

Well, she'd been entrusted to him, and he'd be damned if anything were to happen to her or some noble was going to swoop in and pluck her away to some posh lifestyle because they needed another heir. Of course if it were the Emperor himself, that would be trickier.

_Listen to yourself, Arn. Trying to figure fighting off the Empire itself for her. Snap out of it._

In frustration, he sat up groaning, holding his head in his hands and opening his eyes for the first time that morning...or afternoon, whatever it was.

As the covers fell to his waist he realized two things: someone had removed his armor and most of his clothes, and he was not alone in the room.

He looked over to see Lydia sitting in her leathers in a chair not far from the bed glaring at a pretty dark haired young woman in cute blue peasant frock sitting about the same distance from the other side of the bed who glared back at her.

"Well, good morning to you too" muttered Arn while shifting himself slightly to check if he still had his smallpants on, which he thankfully did. He could also smell the strong scents of healing poultices and herbs in the room.

"Good morning, Flamewalker, how do you feel?" beamed the unknown young woman.

The youthfulness in her voice made Arn realize she couldn't have seen more than twenty summers.

"It's the evening, and I'm sure I can look after whatever he needs" snapped Lydia.

Obviously, there was some sort of rivalry going on here.

"Really? you sure you can take care of _whatever_ he needs?" responded the younger woman with deliberate emphasis on the whatever while laying a soft hand on his arm.

"Yes! I most certainly can take care of _whatever _he needs anytime!" snapped Lydia, standing and placing a hand on her hip cocked to one side, repeating the emphasis on whatever.

Arn meant to stay stop or whoa but it got jumbled.

"Stooooaaa, stop-whoa" he said, waving his hands slightly "I'm fine, really"

"See? He's fine. Now go report back to mommy" responded Lydia harshly to the younger woman, who's countenance fell at the lack of opportunity to do anything.

She rose from her chair and placed a second soft hand on his well muscled left arm.

"Well, if you do ever need something, just let me know, okay?" she said in an overly reassuring tone before departing the room with a sweet smile back at him.

When she was gone, Lydia let out a loud huff of disgust while Arn chuckled.

"Well, she seemed eager to please" Arn said, enjoying watching Lydia's reaction a little more than he probably should.

"Tch...at least I was never THAT desperate during my maidenhood years" she said, still glaring at the door.

"Aw..I'm hurt now. You make it sound like I'd be such a bad catch" Arn said in mock sorrow.

"That's the problem. You're an ideal catch: landholder, has money, slays dragons, older, and good looking to boot" she replied nonchalantly as she turned to collect Arn's clothes and armor from over by the wall.

He thought she was teasing him at first, but the matter of fact way in which she said it implied she was serious.

He should just drop it or change the subject, but he just couldn't resist.

"So I should take her up on her offer then? Find me a young wife to start a family with?"

He caught the unmistakable hurt in her eyes as she turned her head to stare at him for a second before leaning over to gather his things.

"No, you obviously shouldn't" she replied, returning to the cool but disdainful demeanor she'd had.

Arn wondered if she was intentionally taking her time leaning over to make him stare at her leather clad arse as she swayed this way and that, taking longer than he thought she should to collect his things.

After a moment of silence, he couldn't resist continuing.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because...you're old, remember?" Lydia said, rising and depositing his stuff unceremoniously on the bed.

"Ouch" he chuckled

"Your words, not mine" she said half mockingly, raising both hands in a surrender fashion.

"Heh, I guess that's true..." he chuckled as he began sorting his things, noting they hadn't been cleaned and the dirt and dragon blood was still caked on some pieces of his armor.

"Have I been out long-"

"My apologies, my thane" Lydia blurted out, bowing her head "I didn't think it wise to clean your armor if it meant leaving you alone with...that...girl".

"It's okay. It'll enhance my appeal" Arn teased as Lydia glared back at him for a second before punching him playfully on the shoulder.

"You've been teasing me this whole time!"

"It was too fun to watch you get all worked up over some girl"

"She not just some girl. She's the Jarl's daughter, Idgrod the younger, though everyone here calls her Ingrid to keep from confusion"

"Ah, well, speaking of the Jarl, I assume we're in her Longhouse"

"Yes, it's been a couple of hours since you killed the dragon. I...got your armor off so myself and the town alchemist could apply a few things to the burns you had and that lump on your head. We're wanted downstairs whenever you feel up to it" Lydia finished, donning her own armor as they talked.

After Arn had gotten some privacy again, he checked to see if he needed to cast any healing on himself before donning his steel armor, gathering his things, and left the room to go downstairs.

As he came down, Lydia joined him and they approached the Jarl on her chair.

"Hey!" they were interrupted by a stout bearded man in a dress tunic who stepped in front of them "the Jarl asked you here for a specific purpose, not small talk. Unless she asks it of you, any of your concerns should be taken up with me."

"And you are?" asked Arn, visibly annoyed.

"Aslfur, the steward of Hjaalmarch"

"Were you born here, steward?" Arn continued with crossed arms.

"Well, no but-"

"Well, I was, and I grew up here. The Jarl is an old friend of mine and I'll talk with her about whatever I damn well please" Arn interrupted before stepping by him toward the Jarl, who had been talking with a little boy the whole time.

Arn recognized her as the old woman who'd greeted him right after he killed the dragon, but by the gods, the years had not been kind to her.

By his reckoning, she should be no more than 62 years of age, but she looked as if one foot was already in the grave. No wonder he hadn't recognized her right away.

As they approached, she shooed the young lad off and smiled warmly at them.

At least he still recognized the same honest, generous smile she always had, but instead of raven black braided hair, it was grayish white and thinning.

Instead of pale skin with reddish cheeks, she had wrinkled skin and pale sunken features.

Instead of the country girl frocks the other Jarls used to mock her for wearing, she wore the usual richly silken robes of a Jarl or noble that hung too loose on her thin form.

"Sigsmyth's boy, my my, you've certainly grown into a fine man. I was very sad to hear about your father's death"

Arn bowed.

"And I was saddened to hear of your late husband's death, my jarl"

"Yes, but that was...oh..twenty five years ago. I got another one now" she said, waving nonchalantly at Aslfur "and you don't have to call me by title, young man. I told you that a long time ago"

"Okay" replied Arn, rising to his feet "I wasn't sure how much you or anyone else here remembered of me or my family"

"Well, they'll sure remember what you did today"

"I did what I could"

Idgrod laughed a screechy and ragged laugh at that

"So modest in your manners...just like your father. He taught you well"

"Yes, he did "

"Why don't you join me for dinner so we can talk all about what you've been up to these...what...thirty years?"

"Of course...though, I was not expecting to dine in fine company...we don't hav-"

"Nonsense, you're fine just the way you are. Now, come on."

Over the next few hours, they sat at the Jarl's table, mostly listening to Arn talk about the things he'd done since leaving the Hjaalmarch with his father at the outset of the war, while Aslfur hovered around the room glaring at them like they'd committed some crime.

Arn left out any mention of Desarra, deciding there was no need for that much detail, though both Lydia and Indgrod still seemed to hang on every detail, both of them chiming in with questions every once in awhile.

"My goodness, that's quite the tale" said Idgrod quietly when Arn had finished.

"You...called me 'Flamewalker' when I first saw you. Can I ask why?" said Arn, his stomach reminding him that he hadn't even touched his food yet.

"Last night, I had a vision of one wreathed in flames who would come to dispel darkness that haunts my people" said Idgrod in a completely serious tone, though Arn saw Lydia's eyebrow shoot up in surprise.

"Well, we dispelled the dragon for you. So I guess it worked out."

"No, that's not what I'm referring to"

Arn had a sudden uneasy feeling.

"So...what is...the problem here?"

"I don't know, but we've had too many suspicious disappearances or coincidences happen, and now the people are frightened. They feel we may be under some sort of divine chastisement...Psh...as if they knew the minds of the divines."

"So...what do you want me to do?" Arn asked, puzzled.

"To start with, look into the recent housefire. A small girl was killed and her father has acted...unusual for someone in his position. I'm commissioning you as my investigator. So you have my full authority to talk to anyone you need to. I suspect that as the Flamewalker, you'll find what you seek."

"Uh, okay" Arn murmured, trying to devour the now cold food that he realized he was getting really hungry for.

"When do we start?" piped up Lydia.

"As soon as we're done eating, I guess" replied Arn.

"But it's evening out"

"Yeah, that means we won't be interrupting anyone's work when we talk to them" muttered Arn through a mouthful of food.

Right then, Aslfur trotted up and whispered something in Idgrod's ear.

"Well, I must go, Arn, but it was so good to meet and talk again. I'm sure your path will be made clear soon. Let me know as soon as you find out" Idgrod said before rising from the table and retiring with a nod to each of them.

Once they'd finished eating, they set out from the Jarl's longhouse.

Unexpectedly, they got very little cooperation from the townsfolk. After an hour of inquiries, they found themselves with little to no information. Apparently, the townsfolk weren't terribly happy with the Jarl either.

Still, he had killed a dragon in front of them. Why wouldn't they at least trust him?

"I know you won't like this, Lydia, but we may need Ingrid's help if we can't get anyone from the town to talk to us"

Lydia huffed and crossed her arms.

"Surely not"

Arn was about to head that direction when he spotted a man heading into the Inn.

"Benor? Benor! Is that you? Do you remember me?" Arn shouted, hurrying over.

The burly Nord in hide armor stared dumbfounded for a moment before approaching Arn and staring for a moment more before clapping him on the shoulder.

"Arn! Arnsmyth Bulgoar! It really is you. I thought my ears deceived me when I heard you were back. Gods, man, we were only stripling lads since you were here last."

"Yes, it's been too long. Tell you what, let me get you a drink and we can talk about it inside"

"Sure"

Once inside, Benor was shocked when Lydia joined them at a table.

"Who's this fair lass? She with you Arn?"

"This is Lydia. She's my housecarl"

That caused Benor to freeze for a moment.

"You mean to tell me the Jarl made you a Thane after being back one day with some foreign beauty as your housecarl?"

"No, no, no, I'm a thane in Whiterun"

"Oh, okay then" said Benor, who seemed to relax again at that.

"What's got you so worked up about the Jarl making me a Thane?" asked Arn jovially, though also wary.

"That woman doesn't know what she's doing!" Benor hissed.

"I know she's always been a bit odd, but-"

"It's more than just that! She used to be a good Jarl, always looking after 'er people. Now, we never even see her hardly...stays shut up in 'er Longhouse, and we get stuck dealing with that arsehole, Aslfur, and don't even get me started on her 'visions'" Benor replied with a sneer.

"So I gather she's not well liked" said Arn, taking a sip of mead.

"It all went to sot when that wizard, Farion showed up"

"Why do you say that?"

Benor's voice dropped to a whisper.

"You remember we never had any court wizards right? Nobody trusted 'em. Then one day this Farion shows up. Soon after, the Jarl gets pregnant, but she aint' supposed to, see? She's in her fifties. It shouldn't be possible, but it happens. Things don't go well and before you know it, they've called in this wizard sot to try to save the Jarl and her baby" he hissed before taking another swig of mead.

"So...what happened?" both Arn and Lydia asked at the same time.

"You've seen 'em haven't ya? The Jarl is all pale and sickly looking and her boy Jorric is...got something wrong in the head...he ain't all there, but they've been grateful and let the little wizard stay here these last eight years, and nothin's been right since" he finished, swigging on his mead again.

"What do you mean by 'nothing's been right'? What else has happened here?"

"Strange stuff...people disappearin for no reason, people behavin strangely, the dragon attack, people seeing ghosts in the swamps or in that burnt house that killed that poor little girl"

"What happened in that house?"

"Well" Bonar kept whispering "that's Hroggar's place. You remember, old Thornmare, well that's his boy, Hroggar...fire burned the place down, took the wife and child, but the sot moved in with Alva right afterward, like it didn't even happen!"

"Who's Alva?"

Benor's mood seemed to brighten and he stopped whispering.

"Who's Alva? you say? She's only the fairest lass this side of the Hjaalmarch and someday she'll see I'm the man for her"

"But she asked Hroggar to move in with her?" puzzled Arn as he noticed Lydia covering her mouth with her hand so as not to betray the smirk she was trying hard not to make.

"She probably just feels sorry for him. You'll see!" Benor stated loudly before swigging some mead again.

"Okay..uh..well, good luck to you on that and enjoy the rest of the mead, but I think it's time we headed out" said Arn, trying to disengage them before the questions or answers got any more awkward.

A few more awkward goodbyes and they'd managed to get back out into the night air and headed toward the burnt out house.

"Why are we going in a burnt up house at night?" asked Lydia as they stepped over some rubble through the doorway.

"Well, if there's anything amiss in regards to ghosts or thieves, this is probably the time to find out" muttered Arn as he squatted down, torch in hand to scan the floor.

"Ghosts?" asked Lydia skeptically.

"Clearly, you've never spent any time in Aeyleid ruins."

"So...if you've fought ghosts before, how...do you do anything to them if they're...all...ghostly" she said, waving her hands nebulously in the air.

"Elemental, they really don't like the elements..." Arn trailed off as he moved around, looking at the floor.

Without warning, Arn's torch suddenly blew out and they heard the faint sound of a child giggling.

"Have you come to play...I love playing hide and seek..." the voice said as it seemed to come from one spot then another in the room.

As they looked around, they caught a fleeting glimpse of a little girl, completely white and ethereal, darting here and there, appearing and disappearing into thin air.

Lydia's hand went to her sword, but Arn held his hand up to stay her from drawing it.

"Are you Helgi?" Arn asked tentatively.

"My mom said I'm not supposed to talk to strangers...but she's gone now...only the other one comes to play with me..." continued the ethereal child.

"Who's the other one?" asked Arn.

"You have to play...hide and seek with me or I'm not telling..." said the child as the voice drifted out behind the house.

Even as they jumped through a burnt out opening, they caught sight of the whitish child's form hopping over the rocky outcropping further up the hillside.

"Come on, we can't lose her" muttered Arn as they climbed up the hillside.

They heard another giggle as they came over the hill and made their way down several large rocks before emerging near the cemetery.

Arn caught a glimpse of white, as he saw Helgi peaking at him from a rock and ran towards her.

He was stunned to round the rock only to find a cloaked figure hunched over a newly uncovered grave.

The figure turned to reveal a pretty blonde nord woman glaring at him, but something was wrong with her. Her eyes seemed to glow reddish and her skin looked unusually pale.

She hissed at him and bared fangs from her mouth. Vampire.

She sprang at him and Arn had no time to unsheathe his sword or shield.

"FUS RO!"

The force of the Thu'um caught her only a foot from him and she was hurled back against the newly resurrected casket with a sudden look of shock and terror.

She didn't have time to attack again. Arn had armed his sword and shield and was on her before she could do anything.

Closing distance, he ran her through the heart with his crackling ebony longsword just as she sprang back to her feet.

She stared at him, hissing for a moment as she spasmed and then slumped down, her body shrinking a bit and the red light dying from her eyes.

Arn was suprised when Lydia suddenly appeared to his left and cleaved off the vampire's head with her sword, stabbing the head again before it could roll far.

"She was...dead already..." he murmured, glancing around for signs of Helgi.

"Rule number one, remember? I didn't think you could just kill vampires like that anyway. So I wanted to be sure" replied Lydia, prying her sword from the disembodied head.

"Have you seen where Helgi went at all?" asked Arn, still pacing back and forth looking.

"No, but maybe it has something to do with this" said Lydia pointing at the coffin from the uncovered grave.

Arn looked at it more thoroughly and realized it was Helgi's grave and the coffin half open was hers.

"No wonder she still haunts the town...her grave's been desecrated by these vampires" he said, nervously looking around.

"Wait, you mean there's more of them?"

"There's always more than one" said Arn, sheathing his sword and setting to work fixing the casket back in the hole and burying it again.

"WAIT! WAIT! What are you doing?!" came an unknown man's cry from the darkness, causing them both to draw their blades again as the man ran up.

A young man ran up to them with wide eyes, stopping in his tracks as he saw their drawn blades and the body of the vampire on the ground.

"What-what's going on here?" he asked in a shaky voice, out of breath from running.

"I could ask you the same" replied Arn harshly "Let's start with a name and why you're out here following us."

"I'm-I'm Thonnir. I was-I thought-maybe you might know something about what happened to my wife, Laellette."

"Why would we know anything about that?"

"Be-because I he-heard you were helping the Jarl investigate the st-strange things going on around here" stuttered Thonnir nervously as Lydia circled him with sword and shield still trained on him.

"And what happened to your wife?" asked Arn, eyeing Thonnir for any sign he might be a vampire.

"She-she disappeared one day...went to visit Alva, who said she left to joint the Legion, but I don't believe it! She wouldn't just leave me like that!"

"Alva again..." muttered Arn, relaxing and re-sheathing his sword, content Thonnir was no vampire.

"When did you last see your wife and what did she look like?" asked Arn pensively as he went back to burying Helgi's casket.

"She was a pretty young Nord, short blonde locks and blue eyes...every Nord man's dream really...last saw her two days ago. She was-hey, Hey! What are you doing?! That's-" cried Thonnir as he noted Lydia moving the head and body of the vampire away.

"NNOOOOO..no no no!" Thonnir cried, falling to his knees, ripping away Laellette's head from Lydia, and clutching it to his chest protectively.

"YOU DID THIS!" he snarled angrily at Arn.

"She was a vampire" replied Arn calmly, continuing shoveling.

"SHE NEVER HURT ANYONE!"

"She tried to kill me"

"YOU NEVER GAVE HER A CHANCE!" Thonnir started sobbing.

"She desecrated this child's grave and attacked me as soon as she laid eyes on me" replied Arn with a sigh, packing the remaining dirt down on Helgi's grave.

Lydia tried to put a calming hand on his shoulder, but he shrunk away.

"Leave me alone!"

She turned and gave Arn a 'what do we do now' look he was familiar with.

Arn strode up and put a firm grip on the man's shoulder that couldn't be shook off and forced him to look him in the face.

"There's always more than one vampire. Who did this to Laellette? Who made her this way? There's nothing more you can do for her than remember her as she was and help us stop whoever's doing this. You can do that for her, can't you?"

Thonnir didn't say anything at first, just nodded his head affirmative while clutching the head closer to him.

"A-Alva...it had to be her...sh-she was the last one Laellette went to see.."

"Makes sense" said Arn, rising and turning as Lydia grabbed his arm and pointed toward the hillside.

Near the top, they could see the whitish form of a woman, like Helgi had been. They heard the faint girlish giggling they'd heard before and saw Helgi appear next to the woman, holding hands with her.

The woman raised a hand and waved at them before crouching to hug Helgi as they both vanished into the night air.

"Wow" Lydia couldn't help but mutter as they both looked at the dark hillside.

"Come on, Thonnir, we need to talk to the Jarl" said Arn, pulling him up on his feet.

Twenty minutes later, and after having to use Laellette's disembodied head as a threat to Aslfur, they'd finally gotten to talk to the Jarl about what they'd discovered, left Thonnir there to recover, and had been able to get access to two silver longswords from the Jarl's previous husband's belongings and a silver dagger from a town guard.

"So...take out the brain or stab them in the heart is the only way to kill them, right?" asked Lydia a little nervously as they packed up their potions and double checked their armor.

Sensing an unusual trepidation from her, Arn turned her to look at him.

"You charge dragons without fear. What has you worried about vampires?"

Blushing a little with shame, she averted his look, fidgeting with her armor.

"I don't know. Before tonight, I'd never seen or done anything with ghosts or vampires. It was all hearsay...I don't know. I guess I just like knowing I can kill whatever I'm facing. You always seem like you've fought everything and faced all odds before and that's why you're so confident. I-wish I had that kind of confidence" she finished, looking up into his eyes, seeming to look for an answer in them.

"Rule Thirteen: There's always something else out there you haven't seen" Arn replied, pausing a moment for her to think about it before continuing "I'd never seen or killed a dragon until I came to Skyrim, and I'd never met a ghost that wasn't trying to kill me until tonight."

She seemed to brighten up a little, though still pensive.

"There's also Rule Two: Everything can be killed somehow" Arn said, turning and bringing both the silver and ebony longswords up to look at in front of him "Everything can be killed somehow" he repeated, sheathing one on each side of him and picking up his shield "Ready to go bring true death to these nightwalkers?"

"Yes" she said firmly, picking up her own gear in the more usual calm and determined manner he was used to seeing.

By the time they emerged from the Longhouse, it was light out already, as Arn had hoped.

Lydia took up position around back of Alva's house while Arn approached the door.

Fiddling with a key he'd been given by the Jarl, he tried to quietly unlock the door, but the key wouldn't work and he heard someone approach the other side.

"Who's there! What do you want?!" hissed a nervous male voice.

"I need to talk to Alva. I have a message for her from Benor" lied Arn.

"She doesn't want anything to do with Benor!"

"I was told to ask her in person"

"Well, you can't...she's...not feeling well"

"Look, at least let in so I can write the message down for you"

"No! Come back with a note and slide it under the door!" came the annoyed muffled response.

"Well, I tried to be nice..." muttered Arn as he readied the silver longsword and shield of Whiterun.

"FUS!"

The wave of power shattered one of the windows and Arn barreled in immediately after, clattering through some chairs before coming to a halt.

"You will never touch her!" came an angry Hroggir from by the door, picking up a dagger from somewhere and charging him.

But Hroggir was not a fighter, and Arn easily bashed him aside with his shield, sending him clashing into a cabinet, dishes flying and breaking on the floor.

At that moment, Lydia came flying through the glass from another window, rolling on the floor up into a guard stance in a move that impressed Arn greatly.

"Watch this one. He's a thrall of hers but fairly harmless" said Arn, canvassing the room and bedroom before heading downstairs into the basement.

A few good kicks sent the locked door flying open to reveal a candlelit room with an ornate casket on a pedestal in the center, small bouquets of flowers littering the area around it.

As he stepped in, the casket lid flew off abruptly and the young Vampiress Alva herself sat up and spun around to see Arn.

Arn had been told she was beautiful, but was still unprepared for how it struck him.

Brownish black locks in alternate braids hung to her shoulders as she climbed out, her light tan skin adorned with gold bracelets and a ruby necklace that matched the red glow of her eyes as she stood facing him. She wore a fancy version of a bar wenches frock that came to her knees with a slit up the thigh and a plunging neckline that exposed most of her prominent breasts to the light as they seemed pushed together and straining against the straps of the top.

"My my, aren't you a strong one...did you come here for me?" she purred.

Arn should have attacked already, finishing her before she could even get out of the coffin, but he'd been too dumbstruck for the moment.

Now, he seemed transfixed by her glowing eyes and smooth tan skin, feeling himself unable to talk.

In the back of his mind, Arn knew he was being charmed, failing to resist a spell she'd exerted on him the moment they encountered each other. He should be resisting, but all he could do was sink to his knees to the floor, gritting his teeth even as he said words he didn't mean.

"Y-yes"

"Mmmm...you're a fighter...good, I can use a fighter" she purred, sauntering towards where he kneeled.

He didn't respond this time, trying to focus his mind on why he was there.

"Tch tch tch" she tisked "You're forgetting...you came here for me" she purred as she reached up and slipped a dress strap off one shoulder, letting one half fall down, exposing her sumptuous left breast as Arn continued gritting his teeth.

She smiled seductively at him before turning slightly and slipping the other strap off, letting the dress fall to the floor, leaving her completely naked as she had nothing on underneath.

Arn's mind was losing. He couldn't remember what his name was or why he'd come there. All he was beginning to wonder was what it would feel like to touch her..to explore her...to belong to her.

"Do you want to be mine?" she purred again, slowly sauntering towards him and caressing her right breast with her hand, running her hand around it and pulling up her nipple before running her hand down to her hip as she came to stop in front of him, the small patch of hair at her womanhood right as his eye level.

"Do you want to be mine?" she said again, stopping and leaning down in front of him, the red orbs of her eyes inches from him and her breasts hanging down just in front of him.

All he had to do was say 'yes'. All he had to do was reach out and he could partake of her, become part of her, he thought, as he stared at the smooth tan skin of her breasts swaying in front of him, but some part of his mind was screaming warnings, bucking and resisting, though lessening by the second.

He looked up at her eyes again and reached up to caress her locks of hair as the word formed on his lips.

"Arn? Arn, is everything good down there?" came Lydia's voice from the top of the stairs.

Instantly, Lydia's voice seemed to cut through everything.

The charm was broken and Arn realized he was kneeling in front of a naked Vampiress he'd come to stop.

Alva's eyes widened for a second as she realized her hold was broken, but before she could do anything, Arn came up hard with a shield bash, sending her stumbling back away from him as he got to his feet.

As Arn got into a defensive stance, Alva got onto all fours and hissed at him, baring her fangs before she sprang the eight feet between them in the air, fangs bared straight at his neck.

He got his shield up in time for her to clatter into it and they struggled awkwardly for a moment before he felt her plant a foot on each of his arms and leap up.

He spun around, expecting her to be there, but found no one. Too late he realized she must be on the ceiling and a hiss followed by a whoosh of air above him let him know he was about to be pounced on.

Fortunately, he shifted left at that moment and the fanged bite Alva had aimed for his neck hit on the plate of steel armor covering his right shoulder with a painful CLACK.

They struggled awkwardly around for a moment, Alva clambering a hold on him with all fours, trying to get a bite through his armor while Arn struggled to disengage her.

Finally, Arn dropped his sword, reached back and grabbed a handful of her hair with his right hand, dropped to one knee, and simultaneously jerked her over the top of him by her hair, pulling her free with a hiss as she rolled across the floor in front of him.

"You WILL be mine" she hissed again as she righted herself into a squat, then charged him.

Unnaturally fast, Arn barely had time to retrieve his sword from the floor before she was on him, but he brought the bottom edge of his shield up, catching her under the arms and above her breasts, and drove her back into the wall, stabbing her through the heart with the silver longsword into the wall, backing away as she spasmed for a moment before hissing hatred at him before she expired.

Arn heard a commotion upstairs before he heard Hroggir's cries and people running down the stairs.

"Alva! Alva! My love!" he cried, bursting into the room and wailing at the sight of his naked mistress beginning to shrivel slightly, still stuck against the wall by the silver longsword.

"Mistress...Mistress please...come back" Hroggir wailed, on his knees, pleading with Alva's body.

Then Lydia was next to Arn.

"I am sorry, I was too preoccupied with what was going on down here and he got loose"

"It's okay" murmured Arn, beginning to realize just how close he had been to becoming just like Hroggir.

The thought forced him to shiver involuntarily, looking at his hands, clenching them to force them not to shake, but Lydia still noticed.

She crouched down next to him, putting her shield down and took one of his hands in hers.

"Are you okay, Arn?" she said, the warm touch of her hands and concern in her voice helping to bring him back to the moment.

"I am now" he said, smiling over at her, feeling incredibly comforted and relieved to have her at his side again.

As they were talking, they heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs as the town guards arrived.

"Ew, uck..." Arn heard them exclaim. Then he looked over to see Hroggir had removed Alva's body from the wall and was acting like a madman trying to get a response from it.

He had bit his hands, dripping bits of blood on it, massaging it and thrusting against it as he whispered nonsensical things to it frantically.

"Get him out of here!" barked Arn, breaking the surreal silence of the room.

The town guards dragged Hroggir kicking and screaming from the room as Arn and Lydia threw Alva's body back in her casket and looked over the rest of the room.

"So, it's all over then?" said Lydia after they had gone over everything.

"No" replied Arn sadly "It's just the beginning" he said, holding up Alva's journal.


	13. Movarth Piquine

Movarth Piquine: Chapter 13

"This is very troubling" replied Idgrod Ravencrone as Arn and Lydia watched her peruse Alva's journal.

"Do you know anything about this 'Movarth Piquine' she talks about?" queried Arn.

"Yes...long time ago...shortly after you and your father left, when my first husband still lived, Movarth came to this area and we thought we killed him, but apparently he either got the wrong vampire or didn't finish the job..."

"Any idea where we would look for him?"

"Yes...there is a cave dubbed 'movarth's lair' since that's where we supposedly killed him years ago, though, of course no one goes there now"

"Well, I'll need some help if we want to take out the whole group this time and make sure they stay gone" replied Arn, thoughtfully stroking the stubble of a beard that was beginning to show.

"Recruit whoever you need to. There should be plenty of angry townsfolk eager for revenge"

"Eh...well, I was hoping for fighters...not farmers" Arn said, hoping he didn't sound as condescending as he felt for saying it, but after his experience with Alva, the prospect of sending regular townsfolk up against a master vampire's followers seemed like a recipe for disaster.

"I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help you there. We've only got a handful of town guards. You're welcome to take them, but otherwise you'd need to make the two day journey to Solitude to get help from Jarl Elisif or the Legion outpost there."

"Except we can't afford to wait that long. With every passing hour, we run the risk of Movarth discovering what's happened and fleeing, or relocating and attacking us when we least expect it. Our best chance at this is now."

"Then...you'll have to make do with what you have. I have confidence in you, Flamewalker" Idgrod smiled at him, closing Alva's journal.

"Then we have some more preparing to do" Arn said, rising with a bow before departing to his quarters to assess his gear again.

He heard the door open and shut behind him as he eyed the nasty scratch left by Alva's teeth on the shoulder part of his armored breastplate.

"You'll need to go to the Alchemist for some more potions, I think. Tell her it's for the Jarl and she shouldn't charge anything" muttered Arn, assuming it was Lydia, but the soft touch of a girl's hand on his left forearm proved him wrong and he turned quickly to see Idgrod the younger standing there.

She still smiled at him like before, still wore the blue country frock, but something about her made him uneasy.

For some inexplicable reason, the image of Alva standing naked before him, offering herself to him flashed briefly across his mind and he remembered how powerless and at the same time how enraptured he'd felt, completely able for those seconds to forget everything else in Skyrim, the war, the dragons, the myths, the bandits, the jarls...nothing had mattered but he and she, gloriously naked before him.

He was shaken out of his reverie by the gentle shake of Ingrid's soft hands on his biceps, since her hands were too small to encompass his arms.

"Flamewalker! Flamewalker? Are you well?" she asked, the smile replaced by a frown of concern.

"I..uh..I...was just...my mind wandered, I'm afraid. I'm sorry if it frightened you" replied Arn, shaking his head slightly, as though the physical act could dislodge the memory.

"Maybe you should sit down and rest for a bit" she said, gently pushing him to sit on the edge of his bed, "You've been up all night and all day. You shouldn't strain yourself too much" she said, laying the back of her hand across his forehead as if checking for fever.

Arn grinned slightly, but tried not to show it.

"I've done so many times before, lass. I think I'll survive one more time" he replied, trying to sound reassuring, though he felt like it came out in a more condescending manner than he meant, which made him feel a bit guilty since she was genuinely trying to help, albeit he knew she was interested in him in a more than charitable way.

"We've never had someone who could do the things you do here, especially one of our own. I don't think I could bear it if something happened to you" she said quietly, intensely gazing into his eyes.

"Well..uh...you have no fear of that happening...I-"

"Vampires are supernatural foes, faster, stronger and more vicious than any mortal man" she interrupted as he realized she was caressing up his arm.

"But they can still be killed like any ma-"

"It is said that some vampires have the power to charm men, making them forget themselves for eternity in slavish devotion to them...that's what happened to Hroggir, isn't it?"

Her statement had silenced him as he remembered how close he had come to such a fate and the image of Alva offering herself to him flashed through his mind again, causing him to put his head in his hands, groaning in frustration.

"Flamewalker" Ingrid said sweetly, lifting his chin with her soft hand so that he faced her "I-"

Right then the door flung open, and a huffing and puffing Lydia stood staring with a shocked look at them for a moment.

Then before Arn realized what was happening, Lydia tossed the bag she was carrying on the floor, marched straight to them, tackled Arn onto his back and planted her lips fiercely against his, sending pieces of his steel armor clattering off the bed.

Arn was in a state of bliss for a few seconds as the warm curves of Lydia's body pushed into his as they tasted of each other lips and mouths, Lydia's hands grasping the sides of his head firmly so that he saw and felt nothing but her.

Even as he felt the large round globes of her breasts pushing against him through their leathers and her shoulder length raven brown hair curtaining his face, he felt his arms leaving the bed to envelop her, but then it was over.

She pulled up and hopped off the bed, leaving him in a daze as his senses tried to regain themselves.

As he sat up with his head spinning, he realized the whole thing had happened right next to Ingrid, who still sat on the edge of the bed with her mouth hanging slightly open and glaring death at Lydia.

Lydia nonchalantly straightened her clothes and pushed her hair back behind her ears before turning a stern gaze at Ingrid.

"I told you I would take care of _anything_ at _anytime_" she said with venomous emphasis "Now, if you don't mind. We need to get _prepared" _she finished with a sultry and insinuating tone.

Ingrid rose with a huff and Arn felt bad for her as he could see the moisture of tears beginning to form in her eyes as she spun and stormed out.

"That was rather...harsh...and uncalled for" said Arn after Ingrid had slammed the door and they were alone for a few moments.

"As uncalled for as..say...sneaking in here to seduce you while I'm not here?"

"She wasn't seducing me!"

"Oh truly? Why was she here then?"

"She was just...worried...I guess...she's just a girl-"

"She's a girl in the midst of her maidenhood and you're the big, strong town hero who HAPPENS to be very eligible right now!" interrupted Lydia.

"Did you see me doing anything with her?" retorted Arn a little angrily.

"I saw you sitting with her on your bed alone with her hands all over you! What am I supposed to think?"

"Did you think I was actually going to take advantage of her?"

"No, I figured you were going to do nothing until she took advantage of you."

"I am not the communal kissing post" glared Arn.

"No, you're far too skilled a kisser to be mistaken for a post" grinned Lydia mischievously as she went to retrieve the bag she'd entered the room with.

"I get the feeling you're not sorry for that at all" replied Arn, trying to still be angry with her, sitting on the bed with his arms crossed.

"Nope, not one bit" she replied, beginning to sort out small phials and bottles she'd obviously just gotten from the alchemist's store.

"So...why did you decide to...kiss me. You could have just asked her to leave."

"I thought I would kill two birds with one stone" Lydia replied, still rummaging through the bag, not looking at him "I knew she'd leave if I kissed you and I also thought maybe I could help you after what happened at Alva's house"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone's heard the stories about vampiresses bewitching mortals, and I'd seen how Hroggir behaved. When I came downstairs and saw a look in your eye I'd never seen before, I knew something must have happened that you hadn't anticipated" Lydia said, becoming more solemn as she spoke and stopped sorting phials to turn and look intently at him.

"I knew she must have tried to charm you and it must nearly have worked. So..I figured...if you have to go face more vampiresses, then maybe it would be good to have something else in your mind to remember other than some sick creature's attempt on your soul...It might help if anymore try...anything" she finished, sitting down on the edge of the bed and picking up pieces of his armor.

After a few moments of silence, Arn finally spoke.

"You know, that's a little disturbing"

"What?!" asked Lydia, suddenly worried as though she'd somehow gotten it wrong.

"That you can read my mind so easily sometimes" Arn said, rising from the bed and beginning to put on his armor with Lydia's help.

"Hah! I'm your housecarl. It's my job to read your mind" she said with a smile as she helped buckle another piece on.

_It's a good thing you can't read my mind all the time_, thought Arn, as memories of more intimate encounters played through his mind as he remembered their passionate frolic only moments earlier.

He realized as he relived the taste and feel of her lips in his mind, that his cock had been hardening the whole time and was now obviously aroused.

"I'll...uh...finish up here and meet you downstairs if you want to go check to see who's coming with us" muttered Arn, turning away from her, trying to get his armored greaves on so Lydia wouldn't notice.

"Okay" she replied, cinching on the satchel of potions before picking up her weapons and departing.

Arn was surprised when he later emerged from the Jarl's longhouse to a rousing cheer of townsfolk and guards as a fairly large party was assembled to take down the vampires.

Even as they marched through the marshes outside Morthal, Arn pondered what to do.

There was no way he could send some of these people up against vampires. The perfect example was Thonnir, leading the way, yelling and making more dramatic gestures than the others but wasn't even holding the sword he'd procured from somewhere correctly.

Arn noted that as they travelled, the fervor of the group was diminishing notably.

By the time they reached the rocky outcropping with an opening down into the earth, no one was shouting or making any gestures. They all stood staring at the cave opening silently.

Arn made a decision.

"Well, why don't you all take up a...perimeter position at the opening here to keep any from escaping while Lydia and I go in and clean 'em out?"

After a moment or two of silence, a couple of them nodded and gruffly agreed as Arn and Lydia moved forward and entered Movarth's lair.

Upon entering, they both went into the sneaking manner Arn was used to and Lydia was trying to master.

Arn pulled up, trying to think of any other ways they could even the odds.

"I'm guessing they won't chase us into any bear caves..." whispered Lydia.

"No...but we might turn the tables on them a bit" whispered Arn back

"How?"

"I'm better at sneaking. So I'll get in place, then signal you. You'll make a loud noise on purpose and when they come after you, I'll pounce."

"I guess I can be loud if need be" smirked Lydia.

"Not too loud...don't want the entire clan on us at once"

"Very well" she replied, then leaned up against his back and kissed the side of his neck before nipping on his ear with her lips "Just remember, there are better things out there than anything the vampires offer" she whispered huskily before pulling away.

But Arn wasn't letting her off that easily.

As she turned to sneak further back from him, he reached back and hooked his hand underneath her armor, pulled up and slid his hand down the back of her breeches, cupping the soft skin and hard muscle of her left buttock as she gasped loudly.

"You too" he said louder than he meant to as he pulled his hand back out.

Arn sneaked forward, coming to a narrower portion of the passage that afforded a good ambush point on the rocky ledge above.

Getting in position, he signalled Lydia, crouched about twenty feet back, who made a loud scuffling noise and a cough.

"Who goes there?" immediately responded a voice. After getting no response, Arn heard soft footsteps and shortly thereafter, a cloaked figure appeared in the passage.

Spotting Lydia, it hissed but didn't have a chance to do much else as Arn was already airborne from his perch, landing behind the cloaked vampire, bringing his sword straight down, cleaving the skull in two.

Taking no chances, Lydia stabbed it through the heart as they moved on.

They repeated this process several times without problem until they encountered what looked to be a well lit area and likely had more than one occupant.

They repeated the ambush tactic, but this time there were three of them with noise further down that indicated more were coming.

"FUS RO DA!"

The powerful blast of force plastered two of them to the ground as Arn attacked, but the third was already almost on Lydia who crouched ready with sword and shield.

Arn stabbed one through the heart before he could get up but he second one sprang up and leaped at him, barely enough time for him to get his shield up.

Pivoting, he pushed the hissing vampire aside with his shield and tried to finish it off even as he heard Lydia make a fierce battle cry as she clashed with the vampire attacking her.

Unfortunately, Arn had shoved his attacker too far away to finish off and by the time he'd closed with him, the vampire, a large male breton, stood ready, pulling two daggers from his leather armor.

Giving him a fanged grin, the vampire attacked with a flurry of arcing slices from both daggers, Arn able to block most of them, but one or two glanced off his shoulder and arm plating of his armor.

Taking a few moments to get the timing of the vampire's faster than normal movements, Arn waited, then stepped in, catching the right dagger with his shield while taking the vampire's left arm off with a clean slice from his longsword before driving it backward and finishing it off with a stab through the heart.

Pulling his sword out, he cut off it's head and spun around to see the first vampire standing over Lydia kneeling on the floor.

"LYDIA!" he yelled, sudden panic seizing him as he began sprinting toward her.

Then he saw the blade of her sword was sticking through the vampire's heart and her shield was clutched over her head as she pushed it back off her and it fell over spasming in death throes.

"What happened to being stealthy?" she chided him with a smirk while panting from exertion.

Arn stopped and put his hands on his knees, suddenly aware how fast his heart was beating and glanced around to make sure no more were appearing only to see a female bosmer vampire appear in the doorway with blood dripping from her mouth and chin.

Arn immediately got his sword and shield up, but he woman didn't attack, instead she sauntered towards him, licking the blood from around her lips, staring him in the eyes.

"Don't you want to see what I have to offer first?" she croaked, Arn realizing her attempts at being sultry were nowhere near as good as Alva's had been, though he began to feel that fuzzy cloud effect trying to assault his mind as she tried to gain hold with her charm.

Sensing she wasn't getting a hold of him, the woman untied the sash at her middle and slowly stepped out of the robe she wore and tossed it aside, leaving her in only some generic leather smallpants and breast strap.

"I have sooo...much to offer...if you'll only be mine" she said a bit more nervously.

Arn had an idea then. He slowly lowered his shield and sword, walking toward her slowly in an apparent dumbfounded state.

The vampiress smiled, thinking she was finally getting somewhere.

"Arn! Arn, what are you doing?! Snap out of it!" he heard Lydia screaming, clattering to her feet as she tried to get to them.

"Become mine...and you may partake of me...don't you want that?" she hissed at him through her fanged mouth, reaching back to free the knot holding the breast strap on as Arn tried to keep up the facade as he got to within arm's length of her.

Then he sprung his trap. The vampiress only had a brief moment to realize she had been the one getting played as Arn's sword swept up and across, severing her head from her body.

"No..not really" spat Arn in retort to the Vampiress's last question as her body fell to the floor "and THAT is how you charm a vampiress" smirked Arn as he turned to find Lydia relaxing her bow and arrow she'd readied, letting out a big sigh of relief.

"You had me worried there" she said, putting away her bow and arrow to ready her sword and shield again.

"Well, now that they all know we're here, maybe we should try a different approach...I'll lead and draw attention while you pepper them full of arrows"

"Sounds good to me" said Lydia, getting her bow back out.

They advanced a little less slowly now, taking out two in the next area and then a lone straggler before coming on a strange passageway with scaffolding around it.

Arn made a motion and they slowly climbed the scaffolding and crept slowly forward since it was harder to move quietly on the wood.

The passage opened up into a large haze filled room with at least a dozen vampires armed and ready for them positioned in different spots around a cavern whose central piece was a large candlelit banquet table hideously filled with scraps of flesh, bones and fruits.

What got Arn's immediate attention was the vampire seated at the head of the table. A good head and shoulders above the others, the vampire also didn't look right, even for a vampire.

He had a large, unnaturally thick head and neck with a protruding jaw full of sharpened teeth, not just fangs. Wearing fine noble robes, he sat lackadaisically eyeing his followers, for surely this must be Movarth Piquine.

Thankfully, none of them had expected Arn to be up on the scaffolding and now he had a commanding view of the room and its inhabitants without their knowledge.

Arn made motion to Lydia to stay put as he slowly eased himself further off to one side across more scaffolding so that they were a good twenty to thirty feet apart and readied his bow as she did the same.

_Take out the supporters first, or the master?_ wondered Arn.

Surely Movarth was the more dangerous, but engaging them all at once was precisely what Arn wanted to avoid, so he had to have some way of thinning their numbers.

Pointing out a target to Lydia, Arn took aim at the farthest cloaked figure off to the left side.

Exhaling his breath, he let fly and the arrow flew truly, thudding through chest and heart of the vampire as it flailed and fell to one side, Lydia's arrow striking truly shortly after, hitting another vampire in the head.

Two down, eleven to go.

Arn was already picking out his next target as the figures in the room moved in response to their unseen assault.

Several rushed to the fallen one while others closed on the passage opening, while several others huddled near Movarth either to protect him or maybe hoping he would protect them.

Arn began firing at will, picking off one then another of the ones closing on the passage opening, hoping to reinforce the idea that they were in the passage further down.

Lydia continued firing as well, though her shots weren't as accurate, hitting one in the arm and another in the chest, but not through the heart.

As they scrambled toward the passage, the foremost one finally noticed after the vampire next to him got an arrow through the head that it came from higher up and sprinted, leaping up toward Lydia.

She was ready though, and ,with arrow already knocked, nailed him through the heart, the force of the shot just enough to make him fall short of his mark and clamber against the front of the scaffolding before he fell.

Arn was knocking another arrow when the vampires finally pinpointed their location and one leapt at Lydia.

Three more followed suit, leaping the ten feet off the ground toward Lydia, who had dropped her bow and was trying to get her shield and sword up.

"FUS RO DA!"

The force of the shout caught all three midair and threw them back against the stone, pulverizing one of them, which surprised Arn since he'd never done that with that shout before.

Singling out another one, Arn let fly with another arrow, missing his mark as the arrow flew past its head.

"HERE! BLOODSUCKERS!" cried Lydia, pounding her shield threateningly to get their attention, hoping they wouldn't notice Arn, though the dragon shout had nullified any chance of that.

Surprisingly, during this whole thirty seconds of mayhem, Movarth Piquine hadn't moved an inch from his chair. He simply sat with an amused? or threatening smirk on his face...hard to tell which with all those teeth showing.

As if in response, he waved his hand to those around him to attack them.

Arn kept knocking and firing, arrow after arrow, with Lydia bashing or slicing any vampires that tried leaping or climbing up the scaffolding.

Only about half Arn's shots were hitting their marks since they were all moving around so much faster now and trying to avoid the deadly shots, and of those hits only a few had been fatal blows.

A large blast of ice crystals suddenly surged from the hands of one of them and nearly hit Arn as he crouched with his bow, firing at the mage at the same time.

He heard a loud crash off to his right where Lydia was and heard her grunt as he turned just in time to see her crash into him.

Evidently, the vampires had decided to tear down the scaffolding to get to them, unsettling Lydia's footing and in the process granting an opening to a leaping vampire to land up top, striking her so hard she went flying into him.

Arn sat up as Lydia dazzedly shook her head, their arms tangled around each other and their bows/swords, and he looked past her to catch the red gleam from the eyes of an onrushing vampire with a nasty looking mace.

"FUS RO DA!"

Again the force of the shout caught three vampires clambering toward them, this time because they were so close or for some other unknown reason, the shout pulverized all three into dusty ashes.

Another Ice bolt flew by them as Lydia scrambled on all fours to find her shield.

Arn locked onto the firing mage and took a step back.

"WULD NA KEST!"

He exploded off the scaffolding right into the mage, burying his sword in her chest as she stared in shock at him before beginning to spasm and shrivel as he pulled his sword out, turning to catch a hefty clash of a greatsword from another vampire with his shield.

Arn felt the vibration of the blow in his arm, briefly remembering the last time someone with unnatural strength had fought him with a greatsword.

He had to end this soon, catching Movarth Piquine out of the corner of his eye still seated casually watching.

Timing the next swing, Arn hooked the edge of his shield behind the vampire's wrists, knocking them wide enough he could come back across with his blade, severing the vampire's head.

Just as he did so, he felt himself suddenly feel dizzy, fog about his head, and he stumbled, falling to one knee.

"Arn! Arn!" he heard Lydia calling from behind him.

He looked up to see the fuzzy shape of Movarth rising from his banquet table, lifting a glass of blood and sipping it, letting a lone drip come down his chin as Arn's vision began to normalize again, his strength returning.

Then Lydia was by his side, limping with a lump already starting to form on the red spot on her cheek where she'd taken a blow.

"Are you okay?" she panted, handing him a potion.

Arn wasn't sure what happened there but took the potion just in case as Movarth plodded toward them.

"You must be the one they are calling the 'Dragonborn'" Piquine's voice echoed through the space, making Arn feel like he was whispering in response.

"And you must be the one called Movarth Piquine"

"I am Movarth Piquine the Undying. You have disturbed my thralls and my land" boomed Piquine

"I'd say we did more than disturbed them" smirked Arn, nodding at the bodies all around.

"What punishment shall I prescribe for you...?" muttered Piquine as if only to himself, completely ignoring Arn's retort.

"Well...I think we're done talking" said Arn, readying to charge Piquine as Lydia got her own weapons ready.

"This is only the beginning for you" sneered Piquine as he waved his hand in the air, a faint reddish white light emitting from it.

Arn suddenly had a very bad feeling.

They both froze as suddenly each body left in the room suddenly rose in the air, glowing with a reddish light as each one seemed to recompose itself regardless of what injuries it had or what body parts it was missing.

In a moment, the tables had turned, and Arn and Lydia found themselves surrounded by all the vampires they thought they'd just killed advancing on them.

This was bad...very bad.


	14. Movarth Piquine Pt 2

Movarth Piquine pt. 2: Chapter 14

Arn stood with his back to Lydia, surveying the vampires slowly approaching them.

This time, Arn decided Movarth had to go first. Maybe that would break whatever spell he'd cast to revive his followers.

"WULD NA KEST!"

Arn exploded toward Movarth, expecting to impale his heart with his crackling ebony longsword, but instead found himself stabbing thin air when his burst came to a halt, looking up to see Movarth, in a feat of supernatural speed had expected as much and somersaulted backward about thirty feet, landing on one foot and a knee as he grinned toothily at Arn.

"Arn! Arn!" he heard Lydia cry out behind him, suddenly not at her back as the vampires closed in.

Arn turned and tried to get as many as he could with a shout, hoping he didn't strike Lydia as well.

"FUS RO DA!"

The blast caught several of them rushing Lydia from her left and pulverized two of them, but even as he shouted his thu'um, Arn felt himself suddenly lightheaded again and drained of energy.

He stumbled to his knees, his sword clattering out of his hands as he looked up through foggy vision at the blurry image of the vampires leaping on Lydia, tackling her to the ground and ripping her sword away.

Then it was a grey and black haze of figures as Arn tried to will himself back up but instead felt himself falling further.

As what must have been the stone floor struck his face, he passed out.

Slowly, dazedly, Arn became aware of noises around him...voices...people walking around...furniture moving...more voices.

For a moment, he thought he was back in the Jarl's longhouse in Morthal and that all the vampires had just been some nightmare, but then the blurry image of vampires mobbing and tackling Lydia, ripping her weapons away shot through his mind and his mind sprang alert, though he still felt like his eyelids were weighted down by stones.

He shifted slightly and realized he was gagged with something wool and seated in a wooden chair, wrists, ankles and waist tied to it by strong ropes.

"Bethynia...Moralia...you're sure you need nothing from the town for the ritual" Movarth boomed across the room at someone.

"No, dear master, we have all we need...we just require time for the mixtures to be prepared" responded some female voice Arn didn't know.

"Moralia...stay here and pacify this female if need be. She refuses to be charmed it seems" Piquine continued.

"The longer she resists, the more her loss" came Moralia's enraptured reply to Movarth.

Arn moved slightly in his chair, testing the strength of the ropes hopefully without anyone noticing.

At the same time, he was wondering why he'd blacked out. He'd gotten dizzy earlier but recovered, then it hit him.

He'd tried to use too many words of power in too short a time. The Grey Beards had warned him it could happen, but he'd been able to push the line more since High Hrothgar.

This time, he'd pushed it too far and now he and Lydia were paying the price for it.

_LYDIA!_

She must be the 'female' Movarth had referenced resisting.

Suddenly, he felt a sickeningly cold, large hand with long, hooked finger nails grab his jaw and shake his head.

"I know you're awake, Dragonborn" sneered Movarth only inches from his face.

Slowly, Arn cracked an eye open to see the gray bloated head, sharp teeth, and red eyes of Movarth Piquine.

"I was getting tired of waiting. We only have an hour or two til dusk. Then we must go feast on the simpletons out in front of the cave."

Arn realized he must have been out for at least an hour or two. Opening the other eye, he yanked his jaw away from Movarth's hand, taking a quick glance around the room at the same time.

He caught a glance of Lydia on her knees in just her leathers, bound with her arms behind her back, gritting her teeth as several cloaked figures stood around her, one of them casting some sort of spell on her.

"That's right. I want you fully awake for your punishment" Piquine mused, rising to his full height and chuckling as Arn's eyes turned again to focus on what they might be doing to Lydia.

Arn tried to say something, but it was too horribly muffled by the gag to make any sense.

"Observe carefully" Piquine sneered at him as he paced back to where Lydia was dragged to her feet and made to bow her head as Piquine approached.

With a wave of his hand, the figures, one of whom Arn recognized must be the Moralia that Piquine had been talking to, began untying Lydia's ropes. Soon she was completely unbound and made to stand up straight.

She instantly tried to dart away but suddenly stood stock still and straight as Movarth stepped in front of her in a flash and held up a hand, locking eyes with hers.

"You will do as I command...I will be your master...you want to serve me...do you not?" He boomed with authority, towering over her.

Lydia didn't respond. She simply stood stock still with her eyes wide and staring straight ahead of her, as though sleepwalking.

She shook her head furiously for a moment before Movarth nodded to Moralia again, who cast another spell on Lydia, returning her to a straight and motionless posture.

Piquine circled her for a moment before waving his hand again.

"Those clothes are unbecoming, girl...Remove them...all of them" ordered Piquine, turning to give Arn a toothy grin.

With shaking hands, Lydia reached up and unbuttoned her leather jerkin before slowly reaching up and pulling it up and over her head. When she hesistated, Moralia hit her with another spell and Lydia resumed, pushing her leather breeches down over her bountiful hips, down her legs and stepped out of them, tossing them away.

"All of them!" reiterated Movarth when she hesitated again.

Her hands went to her back to untie her leather breast strap but froze, quaking in place.

Movarth sighed "Must I do everything myself.." he muttered moving behind Lydia and with one swipe of his large hand with oversized fingernails, he'd ripped the breast strap off, her large breasts now bouncing free in the cold air of the cave, and with another swipe, he'd done the same with her smallpants, the force of him tearing them off pulling her down halfway on all fours.

"Stay down and don't move" he ordered as she tried to cover her nakedness momentarily.

Arn had been transfixed on what Piquine was doing before he realized he needed to find a way out and fast.

Pulling again on his fastenings, he tested the gag on his mouth, getting a mouthful of dirty cotton in the process.

Movarth chuckled.

"He he...you begin to understand. That dragon blood in your veins is important to me. So, nothing's going to happen to you...yet, but your lovely companion here" he said while caressing one of his big gray hands over Lydia's head and down her bare back to rest on one of her buttocks "will do whatever I want...and you will be powerless to stop it. You will just have to watch as I make every part of her belong to me"

Arn thrashed against his bindings more as the his anger and shock got the better of him.

"I am the master of these lands and you either follow my bidding or you are of no use to me" continued Piquine removing his hand from Lydia and waving it over her again before walking to the table.

"Come, child" he motioned to her "crawl to me".

Slowly, Lydia crawled on all fours, her resistance palpable by her entire body shaking as she moved.

When she neared, Movarth pulled a bag off the table, opened it and withdrew a hideous sight...the disembodied head of Thonnir!

"This sot ventured into our little home not long after you. We gave him an appropriate welcome. Now girl, if you wish to become one of us, you must drink and eat as we do. Come...feast on this morsel" He commanded, setting the still bleeding head on the edge of the table and motioning her toward it.

Arn was enraged now, veins popping out of his head, face flushing red and the cold feeling of hatred filling him as he thrashed furiously in his bindings to the chair.

"Yesss..." leered Piquine at Arn "It's going to happen...and you will be powerless to stop any of it...quick, now, put his weapons in front of him so he may feel his powerlessness even more" he commanded.

On cue, Arn's silver and ebony longswords were placed in front of him on the table along with his dagger and shield of Whiterun, making him thrash harder.

By now a plan was forming in Arn's mind, but he had no idea if it would work or if he had enough time to pull it off.

"You know, I can no longer feel Alva's presence in the town...I guess you are probably to blame for that too" growled Movarth as he moved back over to Lydia, who was shakily beginning to crawl towards the table edge.

"Such a shame...she was my most pleasing subject" drawled Piquin as he stroked his large gray hand across Lydia's body, first over her right breast, squeezing gently before moving on over her stomach and hip and over to her lower back before stopping and grinning at Arn again "But your companion seems pleasing enough. She will have to do as Alva's replacement, I think" he sneered.

Arn continued to thrash, his adrenaline pumping harder, his thrashing beginning to lift the chair off the ground.

Piquine huffed slightly in annoyance before running his hand back over Lydia's buttocks before spreading them and inserting a large hooked digit into her arsehole and using it as a grip, shoved her forward into the table, sending Thonnir's head toppling along with various pieces of bone, flesh, and fruit from the table.

"Hurry...UP!" Piquine boomed at Lydia "Why does she continue to resist?" he questioned back at Moralia, who simply shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess I'll just have to use more...force" he sneered, approaching Lydia from behind as she looked over at Arn with gashed forearms and a bloody nose from her impact with the table.

Arn could see in her eyes she was still there, still resisting, but she was scared..terrified. Her eyes were wide and pained..looking at him pleadingly, expectantly.

Of course she looked to him. He was the Dragonborn, the Great War veteran, the able Sellsword, the Thane of Whiterun, and Flamewalker. She had trusted him with her life and this was what happened to her. Arn felt a sudden weight of guilt, knowing he had led her into this.

He tried to say something to her, encourage her. Help her keep resisting, but he was gagged and it was all muffled. So, he instead looked her in the eye with as much care and encouragement as he could, the look saying more than words perhaps ever could as he continued thrashing, finally feeling the give on his right wrist he was looking for.

Movarth approached Lydia and pushed her further onto the table, pinning her face and breasts to the table while her arse stayed pulled up on two feet as he began messing with his lower robe.

"Her mind can only resist so long...enjoy the defilement" he sneered at Arn with another toothy grin as he moved to spread her legs wider.

Then Arn's right wrist popped loose from jerking the ropes to and fro like a saw, and his hand was immediately on the silver dagger in front of him, slashing down with it to cut his right ankle loose.

Even as Piquine roared at his followers to detain him again, Arn half rose to a crouched position, still half tied to the chair and spun, hurling the dagger at a surprised Moralia whose scream of surprise was cut off as the dagger embedded itself in her throat.

Piquine dropped Lydia in a heap and moved to grab Arn, but with his free hand, Arn pulled the gag free of his mouth.

"FUS RO DA!"

This time, Movarth was too close and unprepared to dodge it. The blast didn't pulverize him, but it crushed the hand that had been reaching for Arn and sent him flying twenty feet in the air backward into the stone wall.

The others were closing on him, but Arn was already mostly free, hacking with a longsword in each hand on his bindings.

He spun again, this time using the chair he was in a buffer between him and anyone attacking from behind.

Strangely, they still seemed intent on capturing him alive and unharmed since none were using weapons or attacking him with enough viciousness to take any limbs off.

They must really want that dragon blood.

Arn deflected a few blows, but really wasn't interested in them at all. No...he needed Movarth dead...now.

He turned just in time to see Movarth spring to his feet with a hiss of rage and leap the twenty feet in the air back at Arn.

He was still engaged with two vampires and had no free hands or weapons to deal with anything else. If he used shouts anymore, he'd black out again.

He had no choice, though.

Even as Movarth landed next to him with a hand about to close on him, another shout erupted from Arn, sending Piquine flying back again.

Arn spun again, making one vampire back away and left the other grappling with the chair as Arn turned and made one last desperate move.

"WULD NA KEST!"

He exploded across the room, his swords both impaling Piquine as he just sprang to his feet, a look of sudden shock across his features as Arn satisfyingly realized he'd gotten him through the heart with the ebony one in his right hand.

"Enjoy the damnation!" Arn spat as he pulled the silver longsword in his left hand from Piquine's chest and with the remaining strength he had, cleaved Piquine's bloated head from his shoulders.

Even as Movarth Piquine's body fell to the floor, Arn felt himself falling with it, his vision becoming increasingly blurry and his energy ebbing away completely.

As his vision went dark, he heard a battle cry from Lydia and felt himself smiling.

At least he could die knowing he'd take Piquine with him and given her a fighting chance...then all was darkness again.

Hazily, Arn became aware of a beautiful voice singing:

_In the spring of our youth, we walked hand in hand_

_Through the fields with the flowers in bloom._

_And the love in our hears was the love of the land_

_But my spirit, you vanished too soon._

_The say that you're gone, that you'll never return._

_and that you never loved me at all._

_But I know the truth, that your heart is still mine_

_and I'm holding your place in my hall._

_I searched all the worlds when you were o'er long_

_Walked the beaches for some sign of you_

_All these tears that I cry are because you are gone_

_and my love, that's all I can do._

_They say that you're gone, that you'll never return._

_and that you never loved me at all._

_But I know the truth, that your heart is still mine_

_and I'm holding your place in my hall._

For a moment, Arn thought he'd died and gone to Sovngarde and that some valkyrie was singing to him to usher his soul to rest.

He became aware that a beautiful woman was indeed cradling his head in her lap and singing, but as he blearily opened his eyes, he looked up into the tear stained face of Lydia whose countenance suddenly brightened and she leaned over him, clutching him to her bosom and neck.

He realized she must still be naked as one of her nipples poked against him briefly.

Not a bad way to be brought back to life, he mused hazily for a moment, enjoying the warm softness of her breasts and face as she clung to him, their breaths mingling for a what seemed like a long time but was in reality only a few seconds before the rest of their predicament hit Arn and he clawed his way loose, scrambling to his feet, wondering what happened to the rest of the vampires.

Even as he got his sword up and ready, all he saw around the room were bodies.

"What-what happened?"

"After you killed Movarth, all the vampires just...collapsed...died...or whatever vampires do when they cease to exist" said Lydia sombrely.

"So it was all over when Piquine died?" puzzled Arn, still wandering to and fro, expecting someone or something else to appear.

"Well, not exactly...There were two women who weren't vampires. You killed one with a dagger but the other one came running when the commotion started...but I killed her" Lydia replied, clutching herself as though suddenly aware of her nakedness.

Arn glanced around and located her leathers, looking away as best he could, he handed them to her and turned back to the table, getting his armor back on while she dressed.

There was an awkward silence for a long time broken only by the muffled noises of clothing and armor clinking as they each got all their weapons and armor back on.

"I...had no idea you could...sing...like that" said Arn, hoping to break the awkwardness.

"You heard that?...Oh...ha ha...I...uh..used to sing a lot when I worked as a maid in Dragonsreach...used to make the time go by better. Not much to sing about as a city guard, though..." said Lydia, flushing a little red with embarassment "I wasn't sure what else to do since I had already tried potions and you weren't coming to...thought I lost you for a moment there" she finished sombrely as she cinched on the last piece of her armor.

"It's my fault, really. I tried to use too many words of power in too short a span. The dragon magic in my blood couldn't handle it and I passed out" replied Arn, feeling more than a little guilty.

"It's okay. If you hadn't...well, who knows what would've happened" she replied sadly, glaring sternly at the shriveled torso of Movarth Piquine.

Arn didn't feel like it was okay, though.

Searching the remains, they puzzled over the fact that the two women mages were not vampires and what ritual exactly had they wanted Arn's blood for, but no answers were there to be found.

They did find something else surprising, however.

As they entered what must be Movarth's personal chamber, the furthest room into the structure, there was a massive chest to one side filled to overflowing with money, jewels, and rare cloths and trinkets.

"Whoa..." murmured Lydia as they thumbed through just the surface layer as bits of money and jewels clattered off onto the floor around them.

Arn noticed a strange black orb that didn't look like it belonged there. It didn't look like a gem or like it had the consistency of anything else around them.

Foolishly, Arn reached down and picked it up.

Immediately, his mind was filled with a white haze. He could still feel himself in the room, but he only saw a white mist around him and a female voice seemed to echo inside his mind!

"YOU HAVE SLAIN THE UNDYING...BUT YOUR WORK IS NOT DONE! YOU WILL GO TO MY SANCTUARY...AND YOU WILL PURGE IT OF THE DARKNESS THAT HAS DEFILED IT! THIS YOU ARE COMMANDED IN MERIDIA'S NAME!"

Then his vision returned to him and he was back standing in front of Piquine's treasure horde with Lydia shaking him violently by the shoulders.

"Arn! Arn! For Oblivion's sakes! Stop doing this to me!" she chided, half concerned, half annoyed as he shook his head to check if he was truly back where he was supposed to be or not.

"What happened this time?!"

"This orb...belongs to Meridia...she...spoke to me...wants us to clear her temple of something...presumably more vampires based on what she said" mused Arn as he continued eyeing the orb, turning it over and over in his hand.

"A wise man once told me that the number one thing that kills adventurers is curiosity" snapped Lydia "then I watch that very same man go 'oh look, a strange orb, let's touch it' and get his mind invaded by a Daedric prince!" she finished angrily, though Arn had to smile at his own stupidity.

"You're right...that...was foolish, but I promise...no more blackouts...I've reached my quota for the day"

"You've filled your quota for the month!" she snapped back, though a smirk appeared on her features.

After spending a few minutes debating what to do with the pile of Piquine's wealth, they settled on taking what they could before bringing the townsfolk in to carry the rest back to the Jarl since a lot of it could be used to rebuild and even improve Morthal as a city after the dragon attack damage it had sustained.

An hour later, they finally emerged from the cave only to be pelted with rocks, a few stray arrows, a misguided lunge with a sword, and even someone's boot?

"Hey! HEY! It's us!" grouched Arn annoyingly, pulling an arrow from his shield and throwing it at their feet.

"Oh! It's them! You're finally done? You killed them all?" they asked nervously.

"Yes, now there's a more pleasant task you may help us with" said Arn

"What happened to Thonnir? He went in after you after awhile. Did you see him?" they asked.

"He...didn't make it. They got him" was all Arn said and it quieted them up for a moment as the reality sunk in.

"You recall I said there was a more pleasant task...well, the master vampire had hoarded quite a bit of goods and we'll need all of you if we're to carry it back to the Jarl's longhouse in one trip.

This news of course changed their demeanor considerably and after an hour of venturing in and loading everyone up with bags and pockets of wealth, they were all on their way back to Morthal as the sun was setting.

Arn could feel Lydia's eyes trained on him as they walked back.

"What is it?" she asked, even as they came within sight of Morthal and the group cheered and some ran ahead to tell the others.

"Am I that easy to read?" Arn said almost mournfully.

"To me, yes"

"We need to make one more stop before we call it a day" Arn replied quietly so that the others wouldn't hear him.

"Where?"

"That wizard, Farion...too much of this doesn't add up and I could've sworn I heard one of those thrall mages say his name while I was waking up."

Lydia simply nodded her head and they veered away from the rest of the group as they entered Morthal and Arn watched for a moment to make sure they all or mostly reported back to the Jarl as had been agreed upon before ducking away and heading south toward the shack on the outskirts where Farion was said to live.

It was a simple one room abode with a garden and small corral for a horse that looked too old and feeble to be ridden at all.

Arn was tired, angry, and frustrated. Despite their victory, they'd been through a horrid ordeal, Lydia especially, not to mention all those the vampires had slain or enslaved.

He didn't bother knocking, instead he just kicked the door in, a man in his nightclothes starting up in his cot, summoning a flame spell to his hands before Arn batted it away with his shield and yanked him from his bed, dragging him outside and dropping him in a heap in front of the shack.

"PLEASE! I-I have nothing of value!" Farion cried pleadingly.

Arn crouched down and glared menacingly into the haggard, slightly wrinkled face of Farion.

"Oh but you do...you have information...even better...you have the truth" sneered Arn.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Farion, I've had a very BAD day and I'm in no mood for games. This vampire business...this is your doing somehow, isn't it?"

"N-n-no, why would you think that?" Farion retorted, suddenly less startled and more wary.

"I DONT' KNOW...MAYBE BECAUSE OF...Bethynia...and...Moralia" spat Arn with deliberate emphasis on their names, Farion's horrified reaction showing him exactly what he wanted.

"Wh-what happened to her-them? Did you spare them...are they free of Movarth's clutches?" cried Farion desperately, clutching at Arn's knees pleadingly.

"They are free of his clutches now...but that doesn't mean I spared them" stated Arn with a somber finality as Farion's demeanor had gone from one of relief at the first part of his statement to clenching his fists in anguish at the second half.

"What a fool I've been!" Farion gritted, fighting to keep his emotions in check, a lone tear streaming down his cheek.

"I thought...I could do the impossible...even after I failed. There was still hope...still time for me to fix my mistakes...but not anymore" Farion muttered, his hands falling helplessly to his sides as he sunk on his knees.

"Let's start with what you did to the Jarl and her son" stated Arn as he leaned against a rock, crossing his arms but keeping close eye on Farion.

"I...had trained at the college in Winterhold for so long, but there are things...experiments you just aren't allowed there. They're too bold...too dangerous. So I left and came to this out of the way town...figured it was as good a place as any to try out new things in the different schools of magic."

"I didn't come here for a biography! What did you do to the Jarl?!" snapped Arn angrily.

"She became pregnant...not sure why...it's not natural to conceive that late and of course there were complications. We have no skilled healers here and the alchemist was out of town at the time. So I was summoned to see what I could do."

"Which was?"

"I had been experimenting with summoning daedra and using their life force to heal myself. I figured it was a simple matter to summon one and use it to heal someone else instead...but it didn't go as planned. When I summoned the daedra, I...lost control or did something wrong and discovered it had begun siphoning the Jarl and her son's life forces to itself!"

"I tried to immediately send it away but instead just ended up teleporting it elsewhere...I found it two days later in the cemetery. It had used the life force it had gathered to raise what it thought would be its most powerful ally from the dead...Movarth Piquine.

"I managed to send the Daedra back to Oblivion, but Movarth escaped...and became the greatest bane to me I have ever known."

"Why do you say that?" queried Arn

"You mean, they didn't tell you?" puzzled Farion, staring at Arn "Moralia and Bethynia were my apprentices...stolen away by Movarth's foul influence. I have just figured out how to get them back too..." He sighed sadly.

"What do you mean? get them back?"

"I have discovered a way to cure vampirism" stated Farion proudly.

"Yes, it's called a cure disease potion, fool" retorted Arn, unimpressed.

"That only works before someone fully turns. I'm talking about once someone has completely changed into a vampire...I found a way to undo it!"

"Maybe the Jarl will take that into consideration when it comes to sparing your life or not" retorted Arn as he nodded to Lydia before dragging Farion to his feet and heading back to Morthal.

"Hold it right there!" growled Aslfur, halting their progress as they tried to make their way to the Jarl in the crowded Longhouse.

"Not you again..." murmured Arn "Farion, can you turn this man into a pig, preferably a fat and annoying one?"

"W-What?" both Farion and Aslfur replied at the same time, even as Lydia stifled a laugh.

"Useless wizard...come on Aslfur, you know who we are already" Arn sighed.

"How do I know you weren't turned into thralls? The people say you were in there for hours!" demanded Aslfur

"If we were thralls, we'd be kissing your boots right now, trying to blend in, instead of contemplating cutting that foolish tongue of yours out!" sneered Arn, stepping into Aslfur's personal space, forcing him to step back.

"Is that a threat? Because if it is, I cannot allow-"

"I AM THE FLAMEWALKER, YOU WILL LET ME PASS!" bellowed Arn, the conviction and volume of it silenced everyone as they all turned their attention to them.

"Let them through" Idgrod stated, breaking the dead quiet of the room.

An hour later, after Arn had made Farion sorrowfully repeat his tale, the room was silent again as Jarl Idgrod sat in her seat, her head hanging in sorrow.

"It appears...it was my folly to put my faith in a wizard" she said haggardly, the sadness in her voice striking a chord in Arn. It was that same emptiness he saw from veterans after a battle...that feeling of having lost something that can never be regained.

"Throw him in stocks...I'll decide later what is appropriate. It is late and we've all had enough for one day" she continued after a long silence.

Quietly, everyone slowly shuffled out, leaving the goods they'd taken from Piquine behind, leaving only the Jarl's family, Arn and Lydia in the hall.

Slowly, one by one, they each retired to their rooms and Arn motioned to Lydia they should retire as well, taking one last look at the sad form of Idgrod sitting on her chair, holding her son Jorric close, occasionally a sob shaking her form.

Arn closed the door on the sad scene, feeling suddenly like an intruder.

He turned and realized there was only one bed in the room and it wasn't big enough for two even.

Lydia was already making herself a bed of furs and cloaks on the floor when Arn waved his hands, shooing her away and back toward the bed.

"You take the bed...and no, it's not up for discussion" he stated, feeling suddenly more and more weighed down by his tiredness.

"Arn..are you okay?" she murmured, even as they each pulled up their covers in their respective spots, he on the floor, she in the bed.

"Just lamenting things that can never be undone..." he murmured before drifting away into sleep that had been calling to him for some time.

They spent another week in Morthal, helping clear out some other bandits, helping rebuild and move damage from the dragon attack, training the town guards and some of the townsfolk better on how to wield their weapons.

Ingrid was never far away from Arn, which of course meant Lydia shadowed him too, each exchanging challenging glances to either Arn's amusement or annoyance depending on what mood he was in.

Of course, during this time, Lydia had picked up an admirer or two as well, but she found ways to dissuade them, usually just never leaving Arn's side for any reason was enough.

Arn realized, though, that though he knew the land and some of the people, it didn't quite feel like home.

People changed..even the land had changed. Perhaps more troubling was the fact Arn felt more like a bringer of bad news and misfortune than he did a deliverer.

Most of the people still saw them as outsiders. The only exceptions were the Jarl and Ingrid.

As he helped remove debris, his mind was brought back to the dragons and the fact that they were still out there, still attacking other people and towns across Skyrim.

The next morning, Arn stood before Jarl Idgrod playing with her son as Lydia readied their provisions to depart outside.

"So you're leaving us" Idgrod stated matter of factly, not looking up from where Jorric played with some wooden pieces on the floor.

"Yes...well, the dragons refuse to commit suicide. So I have to help them on to the next life myself"

She chuckled.

"So optimistic about such things, even though there's so much you don't even know about who you are as Dragonborn..." she said, looking up at him with a somber smile.

"Might take awhile, but I'll figure it out" Arn tried to sound reasurring. He didn't want to leave her on a sour note.

"You know, if you're going to be travelling Skyrim a lot, you should look into getting some good riding horses. The stables in Solitude have some of the best in the land. I know it's not on your way, but you'd travel two to three times as fast on horseback...that and you wouldn't have to make that poor girl carry your things like some beast of burden" she mockingly chided him.

Arn chuckled

"She's not the dainty beauty she looks. She frequently goes above and beyond what is required, even when I order her not to..." Arn stated

"Of course, she's quite the gem..." Idgrod muttered, taking her chin in her hand as if in thought suddenly.

"Yeah, she certainly is..." agreed Arn nervously, wondering why she was suddenly interested in Lydia.

Just as he was about to turn to leave, Idgrod interrupted his departure.

"Oh! I forgot! You are now a Thane. Surely you didn't think you'd do this much for us and not get made a Thane out of it, did you?" she smiled warmly at him.

"Very well, my Jarl, but...you do realize-"

"Yes, I know, you may be travelling a lot. That's fine. I do have one condition, though"

"And what might that be?"

"You must invite me to the wedding"

"What?" Arn nearly choked "Um...what wedding?"

"You know what I mean" she gave him a sly grin

Surely she couldn't mean Lydia. If she didn't mean Lydia, who else could she possibly be referring to...Ingrid? That didn't seem likely, but Arn thought it might be a safer answer.

"Does this have something to do with...Ingrid's...er...attentions these past few days?"

Idgrod chuckled again

"Attentions is putting it mildly, the lass has practically glued herself to your bootstraps this past week"

"I hope I didn't give any...false impressions" muttered Arn awkwardly, wondering how to get out of this conversation.

"You were fine...she's a young lass still. She'll get over it. I was talking about Lydia"

"It's..it's not like that...with us" stuttered Arn.

"I've seen the way you two look at each other, the way you read each other's minds. People don't go through what you two go through without bonding"

Now, Arn really needed to get out of this.

"Well...he he...you know, if it ever happens...uh...I promise I'll invite you to the wedding. How's that eh?" he said hurriedly, inching his way away from her toward the door.

"Fine..fine. You know, I had a vision about you two...There was a snowy hillside...and a dragon..."

Arn began backing away and turned to leave.

"Just know that she will die before you find love again" came the stunning words as Arn froze halfway to the door.

_What? Why would she say something like that? It didn't even make any sense with what she was just saying..._

For a moment, Arn contemplated whirling on her and interrogating every last piece of whatever she was babbling about from her, but then again, she had suffered a devastating revelation recently and surely not all her 'visions' were real.

Couldn't be.

"Goodbye, my Jarl. Next time, I hope my visit is less ominous than this one has been" Arn stated formally without turning before marching out the door.

"So...where to?" asked Lydia.

"Solitude" replied Arn, trying not to betray the confused panic in his mind every time he looked at her after hearing the Jarl's words.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

1. Again, I will be on Holiday hiatus for the next few weeks

2. The song Lydia sings in this chapter is my adaptation from a Poem titled "They say you are gone" by Patricia Lafayllve

3. This is a lot longer chapter than I wanted to have originally, but I really wanted to finish Morthal's events off here and start fresh with Solitude in the next chapter.


	15. Why they call it Solitude: Solitude pt 1

Why they call it Solitude: Solitude pt. 1

"Finally..." muttered Lydia tiredly as they crested the rise of the road and saw the city of Solitude's imposing walls gradually rise as they got closer.

"You're not that tired" Arn half teased, glancing at his housecarl as they both trudged tiredly toward the gates.

"FIVE days...Arn... FIVE days for us to get here from Morthal" she grouched in reply, stretching an arm as she switched the bag she was carrying to her other shoulder.

"We needed to find more words of power..." Arn countered cautiously, noting Lydia seemed genuinely exhausted and not in a jovial mood at all.

"Still don't have to stop at every rutting cave and hole in the ground..." muttered Lydia to herself but he had heard anyway.

They grew uneasily silent as they approached the gates whose shadows grew larger in the sun-setting sky.

Arn had been to Solitude a number of times as a boy. It's thick walls and strategic location made it nearly impossible to be breached as a fortress and the vast space within allowed for a robust city with thriving trade.

He always remembered it as a place where a lot was always going on and lots of other children to meet and play games with. Whenever his father told him they were going to make a trip to "the city", he was always talking about Solitude.

"Hey! Identify yourself!" a gate guard interrupted Arn out of his reverie.

"Arnsmyth Bulgoar, Thane of Whiterun and Morthal, and housecarl Lydia here on business" he said, indicating the packs of gear and spoils both he and Lydia carried, along with the pack mule they'd picked up from a crazy hunter's camp.

"What business might that be?" continued the guard as the others looked over their bags suspiciously.

"Adventuring and exploring...we need to sell goods and re-provision" continued Arn with a sigh as Lydia huffed and thumped her bag down on the ground.

"You've an awful lot here...for adventurers" queried one of the other guards

"We're good" replied Arn smugly.

"Or maybe just fronting for thieves and bandits" replied the first, fixing Arn with a stern questioning look.

This time, Arn huffed in annoyance and turned so the guards could see his shield.

"Note the symbol...and this sword" he pulled the sword of Morthal out of the pack enough so they could see the hilt "I'm a thane of two holds...not some bandit lackey" Arn grumbled a little more angrily than he meant even as he heard a loud voice inside the gates making some sort of speech or proclamation.

"Fine" relented the guard "just be sure that you behave while you're here. You no Thane of this city."

"Yes...yes" muttered Arn as they picked up their packs and trudged through the gates.

As they walked through the gates, they were greeted by the sudden spectacle of a of a man getting publicly executed with a loud THWACK as the ax man's great axe descended onto the block, severing the culprit's head to a mix of cheers and groans from a gathered crowd.

After selling a few things at the only shop open that late, soon they pushed through the door of the Winking Skeever.

Immediately, the sounds of laughter and singing rang clear around the area inside as several bards seemed to be having some sort of competition with each other, bringing great laughter from the onlookers.

"Ugh...bards...just rutting great..." muttered Arn annoyingly as he directed Lydia to an empty table in the back away from everyone else.

After retrieving a bottle of mead and some food they sat down to quietly eat as the songs and laughter continued in the background.

As Arn looked at Lydia, tiredly prodding a potato with her fork, his mind wandered back to the events of Morthal.

The guilt he felt about having gotten them caught by Piquine made him wince. It was what had made him push to find more word walls. He wanted to know as much of the Dragon tongue as possible. He never wanted to have that happen again.

_Promise you'll invite me to the wedding...she will die before you find love again..._

The words of Indgrod Ravencrone crept back into mind for about the hundredth time since they'd left Morthal. He couldn't help turn it over in his mind every time he thought about it, but it made less sense the more he did.

One thing was for sure. It scared him. a lot.

It made him feel like a large ominous shadow followed him and would swallow her up if he faltered, slowed down, or let her get too far away from him.

He shook his head of the crazy thoughts, suddenly aware one of the bards was sauntering closer to their table, his eyes locked on Lydia, singing some ballad about the "love surviving the cold", except for a moment, to Arn it seemed he sang the prophecies of Idgrod Ravencrone, heralding doom and a wedding.

He stood suddenly and looked down at his cup of mead, refocusing on the here and now, then looked up to shoo away the pesky bard to find himself in for a surprise.

Not only was the bard closer, he was right next to their table, singing away while strumming on some tiresome stringed instrument. Even more surprising, Lydia actually seemed interested, swinging around and crossing one leg over another, drinking her mead slowly while staring at the bard.

"Hey! No one here asked for your services!" Arn interrupted, trying to restrain the urge to grab the smaller man and throw him across the room.

"Oh, but you did" replied the bard smoothly "the beautiful lady was beckoning me with her sad eyes. Eyes like hers should never be sad, they should-"

"ENOUGH! BEGONE WITH YOU!" roared Arnsmyth angrily.

The bard did leave, but not quickly. He simply started strumming and singing again, backing away while sending smiles and adoring looks at Lydia who turned and glared at Arn.

"What is your problem?" she hissed before downing the rest of the mead in her mug.

"What do you mean, 'what is my problem?' You mean to tell me you found that little sot 'interesting?" retorted Arn.

"Is it so horrible to sit and listen to something nice for once!" she retorted back angrily before refilling her mug and downing it again.

"We don't need some little sot like him latching onto us and following us around...and you...don't need any more mead" Arn said, reaching down and snatching the bottle of mead off the table, suddenly aware there were three of them there whereas they'd only started the meal with one.

Lydia must've gotten some more, or the bard had left one or more while Arn was lost in his thoughts, which made him even angrier as he suspected the bard might be trying to get Lydia drunk.

"You don't need any more mead" grumbled Lydia in the best mocking tone of his voice she could muster "What do you know about wud I need?" she spat at Arn, some of her words beginning to slur.

"Calm down. We're both tired and need rest" Arn replied, trying to restore calm to the discussion.

"Wad do you know about what I feeeel?"

"Look, I'll get all our stuff upstairs into the room and we can finish this discussion later when we're both in a better mood" replied Arn with finality, hoisting several bags over each shoulder and heading up the stairs, feeling the glare of Lydia on his back as he left.

When he'd arranged things in their room, he returned but made a detour to the innkeeper first.

"Hey, who ordered the other bottles of mead?" he asked.

"Eh? Oh, your housecarl lady did...uh...sir" replied the innkeeper uneasily.

"Truly?" questioned Arn suspiciously.

"You were staring off into space for quite awhile there, so she just came and got more" he replied, shrugging and wiping the counter.

Arn huffed and leaned on the counter for a moment before turning and heading for their table only to find Lydia wasn't there.

He glanced around nervously for a second before he spotted her on the edge of a crowd...whispering something in that damned bard's ear.

His first instinct was to march over and drag her away but realizing how stupendously possessive that seemed, he sat down at their table and waited...and waited...and waited.

Finally, Lydia turned and walked back towards him, but hand in hand with the bard! They didn't come to his table either, but walked past a stunned Arn and headed up the stairs, him helping her up with his hands on her hips.

"Rule 33: Never rut with a bard!" Arn called angrily as they began to climb the stairs.

"What nonsense is that?" Arn heard the bard mutter to Lydia as they continued climbing.

"Nothing...he's just making up rules to suit himself now" he heard Lydia reply loudly, turning and glaring directly at Arn.

Arn jumped to his feet, shocked and suddenly filled with angry energy.

Just before they went out of sight, the bard looked at him and nodded his head in some sort of salute, as if he was congratulating Arn for his attempts up to this point but he had now surpassed him in his fair conquest.

"That little sot..." hissed Arn to himself, his eyes glued on the stairs.

_As your thane, I order you to leave that man._

The thought burned in his mind for a moment, the words on the tip of his tongue. He had the right. He could do it. What's worse, he could wait a little then run up there and break it up, right as they were losing their clothes. That would teach the little man to mess with...them?...him?...her?

Arn sank back down in his chair as he realized he couldn't do that to Lydia. Much as part of him wanted to, if he did, it would betray everything in the way he'd promised to treat her.

A giggle from Lydia and some shuffling of furniture from upstairs interrupted his thoughts. It was coming from their room. That fool hadn't even had the courtesy to rent his own room for them but availed himself of the room Arn had paid for!

He couldn't stand it. He was thumping the table with his fingers on one hand, clenching and unclenching his fist with the other all while his feet were bouncing up and down suddenly with energy as he nervously tried to think of something else.

The sound of a gasp and groan that was obviously Lydia's seemed to penetrate the din of song and laughter and resonate in his ears only.

He pounded the table in a rage and stood, grabbing his weapons from the side of his chair. He had to get away.

Angrily, he marched to the innkeeper, who must've seen what happened, because he tried to scurry away before Arn could ask him anything, but Arn was too quick.

"Innkeeper! What else is there to do in this rutting city after dark beside getting executed and putting up with these fools!" He growled angrily, gesturing to the other bards still playing.

"Uh..well...um...Legate Rikke sometimes puts on small fighting contests up at Castle Dour...if you're..into that sort of thing" he replied nervously.

"Wait! You said Rikke...as in Rikke the Bladebreaker?" asked Arn incredulously.

The innkeeper just shrugged and threw his hands up.

"I...don't know...we just call her Legate Rikke...will..uh...you be needing a separate room now?" he asked Arn cautiously.

"No..." gritted Arn in reply as he whirled and shoved the door open as he exited the Winking Skeever and made his way toward Castle Dour, all the while trying to get the sound of Lydia's sighs and groans out of his mind.

At the rapid pace he walked, it wasn't long before he was in the castle courtyard, watching the movements of the legionnaires moving to and fro, their shadows cast by the torchlight making it seem like the courtyard was populated by far more.

After questioning several of them, Arn discovered there was an archery competition in another hour, but that Legate Rikke was too busy to see anyone, thus making him have to wait longer to discover if it was the Rikke he knew or not.

He sighed and took a seat on a low stone wall, removing his bow from his back and running his hand along it, checking for any damages or deformities it might have incurred while travelling as he pondered the upcoming competition, but his mind had other plans.

Immediately, the image of Lydia naked and writhing, gasping and moaning as that stupid little bard made love to her came unbidden into his mind.

Angrily, he stood and moved to the target range and prepared to fire, trying to force his mind to the task.

Rikke the Bladebreaker...that's who he should be thinking about. If this was indeed the same one, they would certainly have a lot to catch up on.

Arn drew his first shot and fired, slightly off to the right.

He remembered the last time he'd interacted with Rikke the Bladebreaker.

_He was still a stripling lad of sixteen...well known among the regiment as a bowman but too small for anyone to regard as anything else._

_Their army under General Decianus was camped just outside of Skaven in Hammerfell._

_For two years, the Great War had raged. Now well into its third year, rumors were swirling in the camp._

_Orders had come in from Cyrodiil. Some said they were going to get called back to fight for the capital. Others said it meant they were getting sent reinforcements, but most knew better._

_Arn had yet to hear from regimental command, though._

_As he mulled around the regimental tents, listening to a couple of the other men making jokes about cripples' ability to please women, he was suddenly startled to find Rikke the Swordbreaker standing in front of him with her hands on her hips._

_Rikke the Swordbreaker...his first crush really. Long auburn hair she usually kept tied up in buns, fierce countenance to contrast her soft Nord features._

_He'd caught a glimpse of her once getting a wound dressed in the healer's tent and seen the white skin of her shoulders as they wrapped her chest in bandages, a chest Arn had fantasized about when he was alone, wondering what it might look like or what it might feel like._

_She was older than he of course, like almost everyone, but only by about six years, so he didn't feel the difference quite as keenly._

_She was once just a rank and file soldier like he, but she was always in the thick of things and somehow survived. She had moved up in rank and now, after the last disastrous engagement had claimed the life of the regiment captain Jakory, Rikke had been promoted into his place._

_They called her 'the Swordbreaker' since she was one of the few women who was so fierce and strong while melee fighting that she had broken the swords of men with her blows._

_Now, she stood before him in only her leather undershirt and some leather breeches, eyeing him with a smirk, a look he had seen her give to size up people before brawling or fighting them in single combat. He had no desire to fight her. Why would she look at him like that?_

_Unsure of what else to do, he half-smiled at her. To his surprise, she took him by the hand and began leading him through the tents out of the camp._

_"What are you doing? Where are we going?" he asked, trying not to get too worked up about the fact that she was holding his hand and wondering what the other men would think, seeing them hand in hand walking about._

_When she reached the edge of the tents, Arn noticed they'd were taking a route that avoided the sentries' paths._

_When they got a little beyond the edge of camp, she crouched behind a shrub and pulled him down on his knees behind her as she peered at a sentry in the distance._

_She made a shushing signal to him and they waited and sneaked past the sentry when he walked back the other way._

_Soon they were out in the rolling fields dotted with clumps of shrubs and bushes that was typical for that region of Hammerfell._

_Arn also began to see and hear things that surprised him._

_There were couples in nearly every clump of bushes or ravine eagerly rutting like there was no tomorrow. The early night sky echoed with moans, sighs, cries, and weeping._

_Arn was a bit stunned. Things like this only happened on the eve of battle when people would seek out and cling to each other, knowing many of them would not survive the next day. It was one last chance they would have to feel...alive._

_Arn grew worried. Why was she taking him out here? Was someone in trouble? Was there a battle tomorrow that he was unaware of? Did she want him to help her find someone specific?_

_He couldn't help himself shivering as the thought occurred to him that she might be bringing him out here to help HER feel something on this last night, but it was also terrifying._

_He'd never been with a woman before. He'd lied about his age to get in and he was so undersized that none of women in or outside the regiment would even look twice at him. He heard men talk about the act. He'd even espied people doing it on nights like these, but the prospect of him doing it with a woman, that woman being Rikke, to boot made him gulp in fear._

_The further out they went, the more his fear grew, until he couldn't help himself shaking, sure that Rikke had to notice since she was still holding his hand._

_Finally, Rikke pulled him into a grouping of bushes and sat him down, plopping next to him._

_"This should do nicely" she sighed, looking around and up at the emerging stars momentarily before turning to him._

_"F-for w-what" replied Arn, unable to control the shakiness from creeping into his voice._

_"What do you think, silly?" she smirked at him._

_"I-I-uh-um" he stuttered, shaking even more._

_She reached up and put a firm hand on his shoulder._

_"Relax...where are those breathing skills you do so well while shooting your bow at distance?"_

_Arn realized he was hyperventilating a bit and closed his eyes to focus his breathing even as he wondered why she'd chosen him to come out here with since he knew she had been with other men and was even rumored to be getting serious with one._

_"So..uh wh-why me?"_

_She sighed and took his hand in hers, looking him squarely in the eye, making him both want to shrink away and gaze deeper._

_"Arn, it's okay. I know you haven't been with another woman before. I know you get teased about it and I know that because you're...younger, a lot of the women don't pay you much attention, but...a lot of things will change tomorrow and...I know you've saved a lot of our lives on more than one occasion and this is just...something I wanted to do with you...so what do you say?" she replied as she stood and began untying the strings that pulled the leather undershirt over her bosom together "Do you want me?"_

_"I...guess...so" Arn shakily replied, a familiar heated tight feeling erupting in his loins as he looked up at her._

_She chuckled._

_"First things first, Arn, if a woman asks if you want her, you don't say 'I guess so'. It's a big deal for a woman to offer herself to a man. Some men never hear such words. You understand?" she mused as she continued unlacing the leather undershirt, the top swells of her breasts now plainly visible to Arn as he tried to choke down the lump in his throat._

_"I gue-I mean, yes" he stuttered._

_"Good, now, I'm going to help you learn everything you need to know about pleasing a woman, okay?" she continued._

_Arn could only nod as her shirt had come off and the wonderful white round orbs of her breasts sat bunched in her breaststrap in the moonlight._

_Arn didn't remember getting undressed himself. He only remembered watching her undress. Then she'd made him lay down as she straddled him..._

"Arnsmyth...Arnsmyth Bulgoar!" cried a female voice and Arn's mind was suddenly brought back to the present.

He realized he'd been shooting arrows the entire time. All four range targets had center areas filled with arrows.

He turned to see who the voice belonged to, and there stood Rikke the Swordbreaker flanked by about a dozen legionnaires staring at him.

"Rikke? Rikke the Swordbreaker?" Arn asked, making sure he could confirm what his eyes told him since she wasn't the young maiden she used to be.

"Yeah, but no one calls me Swordbreaker around here" she smiled, arms crossed in an observant but pleased posture.

"How did you know it was me? Arn queried.

"In all the years since the war, I never met another archer who shot like you. When the men told me some stranger was filling up our targets like some Dwemer machine, I had to come see for myself."

"So are we still having the contest?" asked one of the troops.

"You really think any of you can compete with that?" Rikke asked, waving a hand at the target centers Arn had filled.

After some grumbling and murmuring, the rest of the troops dispersed, leaving Arn and Rikke, who motioned him inside.

As they walked through the castle halls, Arn got a chance to see her in more light.

Despite her years, she seemed to keep her figure rather well, based on the swing of her hips when she walked.

She wore heavy custom Imperial armor over some furs and leathers. So he wasn't going to get much more detail than that.

She still had the same fiery auburn hair though it was cut shorter now, the same determined or aggressive posture, though now the soft features of her face had become slightly sunken.

Slight crows feet visible at her eye edges, a blade wound scar on her lower cheek and several worry wrinkles were the tolls age had taken on her face.

At length, she ushered him into a room with a large table with a map and markers spread on it.

Closing the door behind him, she moved to the side, removing her cape and arm braces as Arn gazed at the map of Skyrim on the table.

"So...Arn, tell me, have you been in Skyrim all these years?" Rikke asked almost incredulously.

"No...I was in Cyrodiil, until just recently"

"You were in Cyrodiil...but you didn't stay in the Legion?"

"What do you mean, 'didn't stay in the Legion? Last I checked, the Legion left me in Hammerfell because it deemed me...an 'invalid'" he replied, the memories immediately angering him.

"But you still fought. It isn't like you gave up or were discharged!" she countered.

"Of course we didn't give up. There was a war on and Aranyela's forces weren't just going to go away. We were fighting for our land, for our fallen brothers...not the Legion."

"If you fight in the Legion, you are fighting for the land, for the Empire. Arn, open your eyes. The Thalmor aren't defeated and gone. They're just biding their time. Wouldn't surprise me if they had a hand in the civil war here. If you-"

"So you've gone from scolding me to recruiting me?" replied Arn, leaning against the wall with folded arms.

"Hah, of course! Your skills with a bow are unmatched" Rikke replied, resting both hands on the map table, looking over at Arn, who caught her looking him over from top to bottom in an appraising look.

"Those the only skills you're interested in?" replied Arn, with a smirk, wondering if she had given any thought to the last time they'd seen each other.

She chuckled.

"I have to admit, you've...gotten a lot...bigger since last I saw you" she flicked her gaze again at him out of the corner of her eye.

Arn began to feel his loins hardening as memories of their last time together flooded his mind, having her riding him, throwing her auburn hair back and arching her back as she moaned and urged him on.

Briefly, the image changed and it was Lydia straddling him, riding him, urging him on with moans and sighs before he shook his head in frustration.

_Keep it together Arn._

When he looked back up, Rikke was leaning a hip against the map table, with her head cocked to one side and grinning slightly at him.

"What's the matter, Arn? Was the memory that intense?" she smirked.

"You offering an alternative?" came Arn's reply in turn.

She looked at him a moment with that same appraising smirk she had from so many years ago, before licking her lips.

Then she hurried around and locked the door before turning and grinning at him again.

"Get over here"

Arn didn't need to be told twice.

In a second, he was across the room and crushing her against him, carrying her back around the map table.

He realized as he set her down with her butt against the edge that she had already managed to get his greaves and breeches undone and as they moved, had fallen down to his knees, his hardening cock jutting out into Rikke's greaves.

That would not do. Immediately, Arn went to work getting Rikke's greaves and breeches undone even as she kissed and sucked on his lips, face and ear.

"You have gotten lot bigger" Rikke sighed as she took in the sight of Arn's hardened cock now extended to near full length as he finally got her breeches undone and she wiggled her hips to help him get them to fall to a bunch around her feet as he saw her womanhood was already swollen and dripping.

"You've been thinking the same thing I have" growled Arn as he tried to line himself up to enter her, but she abruptly spun around and put both her hands on the table, baring her white, soft buttocks to him instead.

"I want you in the back!" she groaned.

Arn tried to snake his hands around and down to her womanhood even as he nudged her muscular legs further apart, but she grabbed his hands and brought them back up to her chestplate.

"I need these working my tits" she groaned as Arn's cock prodded her lower lips from behind "I mean MY behind, Arn" she continued with urgency.

"You mean your arse?" Arn asked, a little surprised and disappointed.

"Yes, yes! Come on, I need you inside!" she nearly whimpered.

Arn moved up slightly and found the puckered flesh of her arsehole and slowly pushed in.

"I'm not some dainty farmgirl, Arn, come on!" she growled at him, urging him on, reaching back with one hand to try to push his cock in faster.

He pushed harder, and when he was all the way in, they both sighed in unison before he began to pump in and out.

"You know...you...lied...to me...about this...you're...the only...woman...I've...ever...rutted...who liked...it...in the...arse" groaned Arn between thrusts as Rikke gasped or moaned on each thrust, the pace picking up, bouncing the table up and down slightly.

Frustrated with the breastplate, Arn reached back around and slipped two fingers into her lower lips, causing her to immediately clench around them, a small burst of liquid inside signalling she'd climaxed, Arn followed shortly after, feeling his cock fire off its load in her arse before stopping for a moment to catch his breath.

"Don't...stop...Arn...come on...harder!" Rikke commanded, causing him to resume, his cock hardening again.

"Harder!...Harder!" she cried.

By now, the pieces on the map were scattered everywhere and the table was getting gradually bounced toward the door with Rikke latched on with both hands as her body impacted the table with each of Arn's thrusts.

Amidst this, there were faint voices heard in the hall, which didn't concern Arn in the least, but it caused Rikke to immediately go stock still.

"Stop! Stop right now!" she hissed at Arn, who stopped, wondering what was the matter.

The echo of voices again sounded in the hall, and Rikke's eyes grew wide suddenly.

"Quick! We have to put everything back and you need to hide!" she hissed at him, shoving him back hard so that his cock popped loose and he was left standing there stupidly naked from the waist down for a moment wondering what was happening as she hurriedly pulled her breeches and greaves back up and fastened them before hurrying around to move the table back where it belonged.

Arn had barely time to get his own clothes back in place before he realized the voices were right outside the door and Rikke was shoving him under the table.

"Wha-?"

"It's the general-just get in there!" she hissed, shoving him under and straightening the fur table cloth to cover him.

Arn huddled confusedly under the table as he heard Rikke go around and open the door, letting in a man whose voice sounded familiar...

"Blasted rebels, lost two patrols in the western quadrant of Haafingar. Decided to come back earlier to see if my request from the capital for more troops had come through yet" muttered the General.

_The General...that voice...of course, General Tullius, the sot that tried to execute him for no good reason._

For a moment, it seemed too good to be true. He could emerge and surprise the good General, mock his fantastic incompetence and there would be nothing the fool could do about it.

Arn had the support of two Jarls and would certainly get Rikke to vouch for him. Suddenly his gleeful thoughts were interrupted as he realized the tactical conversation the General and Rikke had been having had turned suddenly and strangely personal.

"You knocked the pieces around the board because you were...frustrated?" asked Tullius in quieter and more _caring_ tone.

"Mhmm..." replied Rikke in a tone Arn knew was not professional.

"Been thinking about you since that last time. Maybe I can ease your...frustration." murmured Tullius, as in horror, Arn heard short kisses and shuffling of feet as they both moved over to the far wall.

The he heard Rikke groaning, and he jumped slightly when a several metal pieces of armor, notably Rikke's breastplate hit the floor with loud clangs.

More shuffling and clothing movements followed, all the while the moans and kisses increasing.

_No...this can't be happening to me, thought Arn._

Well, he wasn't going to listen to this any longer. He immediately purposed to pop out from the table and just deal with whatever he had to deal with.

He took a deep breath and swore that somewhere, Sheogorath or some Daedric Prince was laughing at his predicament.

Arn rolled out from under the table and stood up to face a sight he never wanted to ever see or remember...Rikke was naked except her gloves and boots, pinned to the wall with her legs wrapped around Tullius who had his pants and greaves around his ankles, ploughing up into her as they both gasped and moaned, though Rikke opened her eyes momentarily to nod with her head toward the door.

Arn silently glared at her and waved an angry fist at them both. Rikke only nodded more urgently toward the door as Tullius began to turn his head, only to have Rikke grab him and plant a long kiss on his lips, keeping him from spotting Arn, though.

This happened two more times. Arn even took a step toward them, but Rikke gestured out even more violently, even freeing up a hand to point wildly at the door.

Arn gritted his teeth and silently moved around the table before quietly slipping out.

What in Oblivion's name had just happened?

As he emerged back into the castle courtyard, he walked out into rain that had begun to fall while he'd been inside. Great...just great.

Even the thought of going back to the Winking Skeever brought images of Lydia back into his mind moaning and gasping.

Eventually, he sulked himself to sleep in a nook of a temple courtyard.

He awoke suddenly, the memories of the previous night immediately making him wish he was asleep again.

He realized it was still raining and that he hadn't gotten complete cover from it. So he was soaking wet.

He also realized he was right next to a small wooden pen with a large pig in it.

It lay there and oinked at him through the wood slats.

"Yeah...I know how you feel" he replied, feeling a strange kinship with this pig, having spent the night in the rain here in this wretched city.

The pig oinked some more.

"Yeah...I guess I understand now why it's called Solitude"

AUTHOR'S FOOTNOTES

1. I realize there was not much in the way of fighting or adventure in this chapter, but I needed to introduce several characters and some relationships that cause certain events later on. So more of a setup chapter and there are a number of other characters I haven't even gotten to yet. So expect Arn to be in/around Solitude for awhile.

2. Obviously, Arn doesn't like bards, but there's a reason for that, which I'll get to later.

3. For those discouraged by the setback to the Arn/Lydia relationship, relax. I tried to portray them as both having things they need to learn about relationships. Neither has been in a long, stable relationship before (Desarra was a casual relationship that deepened gradually and never fully developed) and there are things they both need to learn about themselves and life in general.


	16. Nahlslennir: Solitude pt 2

Nahlslennir : Solitude pt. 2

As the sun dawned in the sky, a young boy emerged from his house in Solitude, intent on harvesting enough worms for his next fishing venture.

It had rained steadily during the night and there should be plenty of worms to be had.

He withdrew a small jar and began collecting a few here and a few there, slowly making his way through the cobblestoned streets as the city woke up.

He was completely absorbed in looking down for worms when an enormous shadow swooped by, causing him to look up, but it was already gone.

Then he heard some guards shouting and the alarm bell had begun to sound.

It was only the second time the boy had ever heard the alarm bell sounded and froze for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Then he remembered his mom had instructed him to return to the house so they could be sheltered from whoever was attacking the city.

He knew he should go, but he just had to know what was going on. He always saw the guards and soldiers walking around with those weapons but never got to see them use them.

Now was his chance, just for a little bit, to see them in action. Once he'd watched for a little bit, then he would go home.

He started creeping toward the wall, but he kept seeing people that hurried past him were all looking up.

Why were they looking up?

As he approached one of the walls, he heard a loud noise that seemed to shake the windows. It was a loud roar, no mistaking it, and it came from...the sky.

He froze, looking up at the guards on the walls firing arrows frantically at something in the sky. No bear or beast the boy knew anything about could make such a loud noise or fly in the air.

Then he shrunk in horror as a belting wave of flame engulfed the guards on the wall he had been watching.

Then it swooped by, a massive dark shape with wings. The boy had heard stories before about dragons, but the adults always assured him they were all dead. There was even a skull from one long dead in the Fletcher's shop.

But this one was far larger than the one in the Fletcher's shop.

Dark brown and scaly, it swooped gracefully back and forth across the city, spitting fire here and there.

The boy realized he had been frozen in place for minutes, just watching the dragon pass overhead back and forth, but he could hear people screaming, flames burning, and buildings crumbling.

Suddenly, he had a horrible feeling. What if one of those houses was his?

Scared, he turned and began running back toward his house.

As he rounded a corner, more smoke began filling the air and he saw one of the beggars laying there under a pile of wood and straw that had been knocked off someone's roof, but he didn't say or beg for anything.

He was just laying there with his eyes open, looking up at the sky without blinking with some blood coming out of his mouth.

The boy tried to shake him, but he didn't respond, just stayed there. So the boy continued on.

Another ROAR echoed overhead and the dragon swooped by low again, but this time crashed to a landing on the houses in the next block as the boy could see the massive spiked tail swinging back and forth far above him.

Several more people came running by, trying to get away from wherever the dragon was.

Then as the boy rounded the corner to the block, he froze in horror as a man he recognized as one of the guards stumbled toward him, screaming in pain as he was burned alive by fire that engulfed him.

He backed away, horrified and unsure what to do as the man collapsed and burned in front of him.

The boy began to cry as he saw the older couple that lived next to them scrambling as fast as they could hobble away, their clothes singed and smoking as they emerged from the smoke that billowed from the other side of the street.

The boy stumbled onward, determined, needing to make it home. He had to know Momma was safe, that she wasn't going get burned or crushed, but so far no one could do anything to stop the dragon.

It sat on the buildings and continued to spit fire and smoke across sections of Solitude.

Finally, he'd made it to the square near their house, but just as he did so, the dragon swooped by and landed on a small house across from him, smashing it to the ground as he did so.

It spun and breathed fire all around, the boy ducking behind a stone wall to avoid being burned as flames sprouted up everywhere there was not stone.

He looked back over the smoking rock wall and saw a burning man collapse in a pile of gore in the square and another child and mother running for their lives across toward an opening, but the dragon was right there, looking at them. They would never make it.

Tears streamed from his eyes as boy watched in horror as the dragon turned and opened its fanged mouth.

Then a loud noise stopped it. The boy turned and saw someone else..a man...and he was walking _toward_ the dragon, even as others scurried away.

He had made some sort of shout at the dragon that had immediately gotten its attention, and it seemed to growl something back at the man who kept walking forward through the flame and smoke.

He wasn't the tallest fighter the boy had ever seen, but was a little taller than the average Nord, and he did have thick muscles bulging wherever armor wasn't showing. He had stubble growing instead of a beard and he must keep his head shaved cause he had only the dark outline or stubble of hair on it.

Strangely, the man was also..filthy. He looked like he'd rolled around in the mud the night before and the hard metal armor he was wearing looked covered mostly in mud and grime.

This strange fighter carried an impressive looking bluish bow with an arrow already knocked as he walked forward.

The boy froze as he saw the dragon open his mouth to breathe fire at the fighter, but then something unexpected happened.

The strange fighter roared something of his own and a wave of force erupted from him, knocking the dragon back from what he was about to do.

Then the fighter was firing arrows, repeatedly into the dragon's left wing.

The creature roared furiously, righted itself and lunged forward at the fighter, who the boy feared would be swallowed up whole.

Then the fighter let fly with an arrow that struck the dragon right in the its left eye as it was about to chomp him, making it recoil, howling and roaring with rage, thrashing its head about.

The fighter was out of arrows and appeared to be putting a helmet on when the dragon spun and slapped him with its tail, sending him flying into a wall fifteen feet behind him with a loud CLANCK as his metal armor impacted the stone.

Then the dragon was after him again, galloping forward and spitting fire again.

The man was stumbling to his feet when the boy saw him get engulfed in flames.

The boy cried a little bit, sad that this one valiant fighter was gone, but froze stunned for a moment when he saw the flame breath stop and the fighter was still there, crouched behind a shield with a black sword in the other hand, though smoke was coming off him.

The dragon seemed surprised too, because it then did something else unexpected. It seemed to burp loudly, and spit a large wad of green goo out at the fighter who blocked most of it with his shield, but recoiled suddenly as the green goo seemed to start dissolving the shield.

Quickly he threw it aside and drew another sword.

The dragon tried to spit the green goo at him again, but suddenly the fighter in a flash appeared twenty feet closer to the dragon and sliced it across the jaws with one of his swords.

The Dragon responded by trying to bite and then swipe at the fighter with his claws.

He dodged the bite, and tried to slash the claws to stop them but they still hit him, tearing part of his armor and knocking him off his feet.

The boy could hear the cry of pain from where he crouched.

He thought the Dragon was going to snap him up in its jaws again as it lunged for him, but the man rolled to a crouched position and in a flash appeared again twenty feet away, this time below the dragon and tried stabbing up into its belly.

It bellowed in rage and stamped about, forcing the fighter to roll and dodge this way and that to avoid getting stomped or slashed and leaving one of his swords embedded in the dragon's stomach.

Just as he had gotten out from underneath the dragon, it spun again, and again caught him with a swipe of the tail, sending him crashing into a marketplace stand by the buildings.

The dragon belched flame again, but the fighter stumbled through one of the building doorways to take refuge as fire coated the area outside.

The Dragon roared and began belching fire and goo alternately at every opening in the buildings, occasionally swiping a large clawed hand into an opening but catching nothing it seemed.

Then the Dragon was still and everything seemed to stop for a moment as both the boy and Dragon wondered where the fighter was.

Then the boy saw him, leaping off the roof of a nearby building, the Dragon was completely unaware the fighter was descending through the air with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.

Then the fighter landed on the Dragon's right shoulder, stabbing deep with his blades, causing another below and thrashing about from the Dragon as the man held on.

The boy heard shouting and footsteps behind him that he recognized to be the legionnaires approaching.

Now the dragon was really in for it, but then the boy stood in shock as the dragon quickly beat its wings and lifted itself into the air, rising higher and higher with the fighter still clinging to the right shoulder of its wing.

The boy strained his eyes to see as the Dragon got higher into the air what exactly the fighter was doing.

He could see the Dragon wasn't flying normally anymore. It seemed to flail in the air, starting to gradually descend.

Then he heard that loud shout noise the fighter had made before and the Dragon's head seemed to snap back and immediately began falling back rapidly toward the town.

The boy jumped up and down with glee as the dragon fell to the earth, the impact shaking the ground and buildings just as the Legionnaires marched up behind the little boy, a woman in beautiful Imperial armor shouting orders to them as they fanned out in formation, looking at the wreckage of the Dragon's impact with some houses.

Then to the boy's horror, the Dragon moved and began to stir.

_It wasn't dead yet!_

Then he heard a loud war cry and saw the fighter appear in the wreckage, plunging his sword repeatedly into some part of the dragon they couldn't see at first. Then after about the sixth time the Dragon's head came into view, bleeding and impaled with wood as it groaned its last.

Without realizing it, the boy, the Legionnaires, and even the woman the boy knew was the Legate Rikke shouted in triumph as the Dragon stilled.

The boy then noticed another woman running up. She was younger and seemed very pretty with long black hair that was all loose and messy, like she just got out of bed or something.

She was carrying a large pack of things and immediately ran to the fighter, who stumbled out of the wreckage of houses and kneeled down on one knee, resting against his black sword sticking in the ground.

Even Legate Rikke had rushed forward and both women had begun chattering at the fighter while the younger one with the messy hair began dabbing bits of liquid from phials on the fighter, who seemed either upset or uninterested, or maybe injured, because he didn't respond to either of the women.

He just sat still, looking straight forward.

The boy had been edging forward toward them until he realized the fighter's helmet he'd dropped was nearby. So he ran, picked it up and ran over to hand it to him, slowing to a stop as he got nearby.

Up close, the boy seemed even more in awe of the fighter. The mud, blood, and dragon's blood covering him seemed to add even more to what the boy had seen him do.

He slowly shuffled forward and handed the fighter's helmet to him, who for the first time since killing the dragon, stirred and turned to regard the boy.

"Thanks, boy. You'd best run on home now. I'm sure your folks are worried about you" replied the fighter in a deep masculine voice the boy would never forget.

"Y-y-yes sir" he muttered before turning around to leave and happily spotted his mother running toward him out of the throng of growing onlookers.

POV Switch back

Arnsmyth sighed contentedly, seeing the small boy reunite with his mother in a fierce hug as the crowd around them grew.

It then occurred to him that both Lydia and Rikke were continuing to ask him if he was ok or not while Lydia continued to furiously administer healing potions to his burns and cuts.

"Enough with the potions, or we'll use them all up" he abruptly cut their entreaties off.

They both stood stock still and stared at him as he rose uneasily to his feet, the aches and pains he still felt almost making him collapse again.

Then Arn heard the tell tale rushing sound and saw the dragon's corpse begin to glow.

"Great...here it comes again" he muttered, sheathing his sword and tossing his helmet down, knowing he wouldn't be able to hang onto it anyway.

"Here comes what?!" shouted Rikke in surprise, drawing her sword and dropping into a guarded stance against the dragon's corpse.

Lydia opened her mouth to answer but then closed it again, tiredly regarding Rikke with something between annoyance and indifference as the Dragon's soul began its exodus into Arnsmyth, making Rikke jump back.

"What's happening?! What's it doing?!" Rikke and others among the crowd began murmuring and shouting.

"He's absorbing its soul" finally shouted Lydia over them all as Arn was suspended in the air, absorbing the golden traces of Dragon essence "He is the Dragonborn!"

Gasps broke out among the crowd and Rikke sheathed her sword, not realizing her mouth hung open in shock as she watched Arn collapse back down to his knees, Lydia holding him up as he came back to consciousness.

"He never told me..." Rikke seemed to whisper, though Lydia heard her.

"Why would he?" she snapped, as Arn groggily rubbed his eyes then his head.

"It's just that...it changes...everything..." Rikke trailed off as she backed away deep in thought, rejoining the other Legionnaires who were keeping the crowd back.

"Well, that was different" Arn stated, slowly rising to one knee, testing his balance.

"What do you mean?" asked Lydia, offering her arms to support him, which he shrugged off.

"It was just...more...of everything than the others" he replied, looking up at her pensively.

"It does seem to be much larger than the other Dragons we've fought" replied Lydia, looking back at the skeleton lying amongst the house ruins.

"Nahlslennir...that was his name" said Arn, rising back to his feet slowly, while also turning to regard the skeleton.

"How did you know that?" asked Lydia, surprised.

"I've learned enough Dragon tongue to pick up some things they say. I-"

"Hold there, in the name of the Empire and Jarl of Solitude!" boomed a voice Arn really didn't want to hear.

General Tullius emerged from the crowd and immediately Arn and Lydia were surrounded by Legionnaires.

"What now?" he practically spat at Tullius.

"The Jarl requires your presence!" he answered like someone used to getting whatever he ordered.

"Oh, the Jarl wants to see me. For a moment, I thought I'd be cursed with you wanting to talk to me" Arn chuckled at Tullius.

"It can still be arranged" retorted Tullius, not amused.

"Well, I should probably get cleaned up if I'm-" began Arn regarding his mud and blood soaked armor and clothes.

"The Jarl commanded your presence...that means now" interrupted Tullius.

"Fine, fine, by the Nine, let's get on with it then" grouched Arn as he gathered his helmet and retrieved his other longsword from the Dragon's skeleton before falling in with Tullius and the Legionnaires as they marched through the crowd to the Blue Palace.

Arn couldn't help but gawk a little bit as they marched down the long avenue that led up the hill to the ornate castle known as the Blue Palace.

While he'd been to Solitude plenty of times before, neither he nor his father had been important enough to get in the Blue Palace.

While it was large and impressively built, it wasn't daunting or imposing.

With the rich blue color of the roofing and eaves along with the colorful flowers on the ivy and in the flower beds, it had a much more welcoming and pleasant atmosphere that made Arn feel relaxed, though quite out of place as they entered.

The inside was no less resplendent.

White marble floors, criss-crossed with blue patterns and ornate pillars lined the lower floor as he uneasily walked past a line of guards and a few onlookers toward the staircases going up either side of a centerpiece to the main platform where the court must be.

As he climbed the stairs, he was keenly aware he was leaving a small trail of bits of mud and grime behind him on the steps and hoped this Elisif the Fair wouldn't be offended at his condition.

He also heard commotion behind him, and turned to see the guards below holding Lydia back, saying only the Dragonborn had been summoned and that she'd have to wait.

Arn turned back to pause in step.

He'd reached the top and the legionnaires had parted from him, leaving him alone, stepping forward in all his dirtiness amongst arguably the highest court in all Skyrim.

He was immediately met almost head on by a bruiser of a man nearly a head taller than Arn and just as bulky.

"I am Bolgeir Bearclaw, Housecarl to Jarl Elisif, I must ask you to hand over your weapons while addressing her as a safety measure" barked the burly man in a heavy Nord accent.

Arn noticed even as the man spoke, that just past him, Arn could see a line of Legionnaires formed with General Tullius with Palace guards also flanking them.

_Why were they so worried?_

"Fine, here you go" replied Arn, casually handing him both longswords, his bow, and a dagger.

"You are also to wear this over your mouth while addressing the Jarl" continued Bolgeir, holding up a thick fur neck scarf.

"What?" asked Arn in bewilderment.

"Last time someone in this city used the power of shouts like you did was the day the High King was murdered. We're not taking any chances" stated Tullius determinedly.

"Ohhh, that's what this is all about" muttered Arn, suddenly feeling a lot more enlightened "Well, I can try to wear it, but...I doubt I'll be able to be understood trying to talk through it" Arn said, taking the scarf in his hands and looking at it ponderingly.

"That's enough, General, I think if he meant us harm, he would have done so already" came a melodic feminine voice from behind the Legionnaires.

"But, my Jarl, if he's an agent of Ulfric's, it could just be a ploy to get closer-" Tullius retorted in a stunned manner.

"By risking his life to kill a Dragon?" continued the woman's voice.

"But power of that kind-" continued Tullius, sputtering a reason.

"My jarl" spoke up a man with bright red hair and beard "Is it wise to ignore the general's counsel?"

"I SAID that would be enough! Did I make myself clear, General?!" the woman replied, raising her voice, which seemed to shock everyone, even Bolgeir turned around with raised eyebrows.

"Yes...my Jarl" replied both the red haired man and Tullius with a slight bow before turning around to glare at Arn again.

Then the woman Arn had been hearing stood and he finally saw her at the throne behind the legionnaires and Tullius.

Now Arn knew why they called her Elisif the Fair. She was stunning, particularly set against the backdrop of Tullius, his Legionnaires, and Bolgeir.

Light auburn hair that looked either more blonde or red depending on the lighting, fell in curls down her back over a lavish red and yellow ornate gown that accented her seemingly perfectly symmetrical figure just so while the white and black cloak she wore exuded royalty.

Her eyes shone a strong blue and her face was that of classic Nord beauty that any Nord man would want to slay a thousand dragons for her dowry.

Suddenly, Arn was aware that it was dead quiet. It registered to him that he should be saying and doing something and not standing there staring like a fool.

"Uh..I'm h-honored, my Jarl, I am Arnsmyth Bulgoar, the Dragonborn" he stuttered at first, bowing on one knee.

"Oh my!" Elisif exclaimed, holding a hand to her mouth in surprise "Was the dragon covered in all that muck?"

"Err-well..no...I slept with a pig last night so I-" he stopped when he heard the collective group of people in the court gasp and realized his blunder "I mean...not actually WITH a pig. Uh...It..I mean, I was next...to it...like, next to the pen with the pig IN it...uh...and when the dragon came...I figured the mud would be a good defense against the dragon's breath...so I...uh...rolled in it first" Arn finished sheepishly, glad the dirt and grime hid the crimson blush he could feel on his face.

Elisif's brow had been crinkled in concern at first, but the more he stuttered through his explanation the more it had disappeared and been replaced by a warm smile.

"Well, it seems to have worked. You're quite the skilled fighter it seems, Dragonborn" she replied, continuing to regard his dirty state.

Having a beautiful woman tell a man he's good at something really does something for him no matter how humble he claims to be. It also affects other men around, no matter how indifferent they seem to be.

Arn bowed with a smile, suddenly more confident despite his dirty countenance and speech blunders, relishing the annoyed look from Tullius.

"It seems your first night in Solitude was quite poor, spending it in the company of a pig and forced into mortal combat ere dawn appeared" said Elisif with a more pondering tone as she waved a hand at the Tullius, who grudgingly made a motion and the Legionnaires all departed with the flanking guards.

"You shall stay in the Blue Palace as an honored guest if you so wish it, Dragonborn. There is much we need to discuss" finished Elisif as she made motion and two maids appeared from the right.

"I would be honored, my Jarl" continued Arn, still bowing, though the motion was causing pain from the gash in his abdomen that he hadn't had time to fully heal before being summoned "I just would like to make sure my housecarl is also welcomed and provided for" he finished, gritting his teeth.

Elisif frowned, suddenly aware of his pain.

"You're injured! Sybille, see what you can do, and summon his housecarl!" she cried as Arn, lowered his head and clutched his gut instinctively in pain.

"Thank you, my Jarl" he replied, rising and retreating down the steps with Bolgeir behind him and a maid at each arm.

As they ushered him into another wing into a beautifully decorated bedroom, a mixture of pleasant smells invaded his nostrils as he took in the rich tapestries and large soft bed.

Well, apparently he would be sleeping better than last night.

Guess Solitude's not so bad after all.


	17. Wolfskull Cave: Solitude pt 3

The Blue Palace and Wolfskull Cave: Solitude pt. 3

Arn eased himself into the large tub of steaming water.

After some healing and a long nap, it felt immeasurably good to bathe in hot water after being on the road for some weeks and a fight with a dragon.

After he had washed thoroughly, he lounged comfortably, leaning back and closing his eyes, contemplating what his next course of action should be.

He heard the door to his rooms open, shut quietly, and the soft padding of fine shoes or slippers on the rug approaching the screen behind which he bathed.

"I appreciate your concern, but as I stated a few minutes ago, I have no more need of anything presently" stated Arn, assuming it must be either Erdi or Lysi, the two maids the Jarl had sent to see to whatever he needed earlier.

Puzzled when he heard no answer, Arn turned his head to see a short Bosmer woman kneeling beside the screen.

"I am Nasriel, my lord. I come at the request of Lord Erikur, to attend you in whatever manner you please."

"_Lord_ Erikur?"

"He is high Thane of Solitude...and my master."

"Didn't know there was such a thing as high thanes or that thanes were suddenly called 'lords'."

Arn was no expert on Bosmer, but from her complexion and youthful tone, he didn't expect her to be out of her maidenhood yet, if that was such a thing among the Bosmer, making her probably no more than twenty years of age.

She didn't respond and nervously began untying the strings of her purple cloak she wore.

Withdrawing it from her shoulders, she tossed it to the side, but the outfit underneath, or lack thereof immediately made Arn gulp and draw back instinctively, his loins beginning to react.

She wore a frock of sorts, but it was low cut from her shoulders down to between the curves of her modest sized breasts and had a diamond shaped cutout in the midriff that showed off her tanned flat stomach and bellybutton down to just above her pelvis. Her skirt portion was made of flaps that shuffled around, showing off smooth tanned skin of her legs.

"Uh..I...don't need anything right now. So...you can...uh...go..." Arn stuttered out as Nasriel stood and ran her hands through her flowing blonde hair, making Arn realize that was the first time he'd ever seen a blonde Bosmer.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" Nasriel asked, looking at him with large, imploring dark brown eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure" said Arn, recovering his composure, and growing slightly annoyed at continually having to dismiss people that kept asking him to do things.

"What if you need something later?" she continued imploring.

"I will be fine" Arn replied, wondering why this one was so determined to help him somehow.

"You do realize I can do..." and she froze, nervously looking down for a moment.

"What?"

"I can do...anything...you wish" she continued, looking up at him and reaching up to cup her left breast in her hand, squeezing and kneading it in front of him "Among my people, I am considered to have...very large breasts...you...humans like them...no?"

"Why are you so determined to do something for me when I clearly told you I am fine? I'm just trying to finish getting a bath without being interrupted five times" replied Arn, both aroused and annoyed at the same time before looking away from her and softening his tone "You should just go. Tell your Erikur 'Thank you, but I'm fine'."

They were both silent for a moment before Arn turned to see she not only hadn't left but was visibly shaking, her eyes watering with tears.

"P-p-please...d-d-don't...s-s-send me...away" she began sobbing to Arn's astonishment.

"Whhaat?" was all Arn could get out.

She moved forward and got on her knees next to the tub.

"PLEASE...d-d-don't..s-send me away!" She implored more forcefully, before biting her lip and looking away "I..I..will...do...anything you want... " she sobbed out the last part.

"Okay" Arn replied to which the Nasriel stood upright for a moment before shakily reaching up to shrug her dress off her shoulder.

"No!" stated Arn determinedly "If you're determined to do whatever I want whenever I want, then the first thing you will do is go stand on the other side of that screen until I've finished bathing and dressing, understood?!"

"Y-yes" she replied nervously, pulling her dress back up and scurrying around the screen.

Finishing bathing and dressing gave Arn time to think about what to do with this woman, who was obviously in some sort of predicament. If she was terrified of getting sent back to her master, that could only mean her master, this Erikur, must not be a very good one. In fact, he must be quite bad if she was reluctantly ready to offer her body to keep him from sending her back.

Emerging from the bathing area, refreshed and clean, Arn was about to address Nasriel, sitting obediently in one of the plush chairs when the door to his room opened abruptly, and Lydia marched in with the other two maids, carrying the rest of their belongings.

They plopped the bags down with a sigh, both maids obviously much more tired with the exertion than Lydia, who seemed unfazed and was instead turning a critical eye at Nasriel.

"Another maid?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yes, from one of the Thanes" replied Arn, unsure how much he should say in front of the others.

"Is there anything else you need?" asked Erdi.

"No, that is more than enough" replied Arn since he hadn't asked them to help with anything, but they kept looking for ways.

"Very well, the Jarl would like to speak with you as soon as possible. We will be around if you need anything" she replied before they both curtsied and left the room.

"Well, best not to keep the Jarl waiting" murmured Arn as he critically eyed the newly repaired breastplate of his cleaned armor.

"Does it meet your approval?" asked Lydia with a grin.

"It's okay, but, such a blow will weaken it permanently. So I think it will have to be replaced when I get the chance" he stated as he began donning the other pieces of armor "surprised the smith got it done this fast".

"This man does all the smithing for the Legion outpost here. I gather he's used to getting a lot of repairs done in a hurry" replied Lydia, turning her eye back to Nasriel for a moment "So...why is she still here?"

"Huh? Oh, well...that's a long story and we need to go talk to the Jarl. Just for now, she will be staying here" replied Arn a little distractedly, trying to get the last few buckles of his armor done.

"What?" asked Lydia angrily "Look, just because you're angry at me over what I...said...last night-"

"This has nothing to do with any of that!" snapped Arn.

"Truly?" she retorted, crossing her arms.

"Gods! Why is that every woman who gets near my vicinity is called into question, but if I question one man getting near you-"

"It wasn't just one man! If I remember correctly, you call all bards...into question, to put it mildly!" Lydia snarled in retort.

"Because they're leeches! Can you not see that? They latch onto you, follow you around, chum up to you just enough to find out some interesting stories. Then they leave you and make up their own spin on it...or whatever they need to do to make some coin on it. They take other people's deeds and use them to their own profit. They are among the most unloyal of companions or travel-mates you could choose...and also useless in a fight" Arn finished, but did nothing to soften the glares each were giving the other as Lydia didn't relent as she looked at him.

"So you think anyone who can't fight is worthless?" she retorted.

"No, that's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"What about artists? Is what they do important? Is it important to express and appreciate beautiful things in life?"

"Yes, of course it is-wait, is this some speech that sot told you to give me?" Arn replied.

"That 'sot' as you refer to him, has a name, Falnir, and he is an apprentice bard at the Bard's College, and NO! This is no rehearsed speech!" Lydia replied, her voice rising in anger.

Arn sighed exasperatedly. This was getting out of control again, except there was no mead to blame it on this time. He sighed again, leaning back against a dresser and crossing his arms.

"Are you saying you'd like to see him again?" he replied, softening his tone considerably, acquiescing to finding out where she wanted to go with this.

Lydia stared in shock at him for a moment before looking down and blushing brightly, surprised that either he'd guessed what she wanted or that he might grant it.

"Well...I hadn't planned on asking right now, but at some point, if you don't need me for something..." she paused "I mean, my place is at your side, as your housecarl."

"You've been at my side these last two months. It seems more than reasonable you should get some time to yourself...to use...however you see fit" Arn replied, unable to bring himself to just outright say anything about her going back to that...bard "Just...don't leave the city" he added quickly, remembering Idgrod's prophecy again "uh... in case I have need of you" he added awkwardly.

"Are you sure?" asked Lydia softly, all the fire from the conversation earlier gone.

"Yes" Arn replied, looking down, not wanting her to see the regret or frustration in his eyes "You may go now if you wish. I have to go see the Jarl and talk with some others, no doubt. So I will be tied up in things here for at least the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow as well."

"What about her?" asked Lydia, nodding at Nasriel, who Arn remembered was there again, seated with wide eyes staring at them.

"Oh, she'll be fine. I'll get to the bottom of it later."

There was a long pause, both Lydia and Arn staring at each other across the rooms, arms crossed, searching each others' expressions for something neither seemed to find.

Finally, Nasriel cleared her throat and Lydia turned back to her with another critical look.

"I still don't know, as housecarl, if I feel comfortable leaving this woman here" she replied, not looking at Arn.

"These things are filthy...I...can wash them" came the awkward statement from Nasriel, who had begun looking at some of the sweat, dirt, and bloodstained clothes that had fallen out of one of the packs.

"I'll make sure she doesn't behave improperly and she seems to have found something to occupy her time" replied Arn, continuing to study Lydia's countenance.

"I will be checking on you" stated Lydia emphatically as she turned to leave, though Arn realized it was said to Nasriel more than he.

Leaving his quarters and Nasriel behind with several assigned cleaning tasks, Arn ascended the stairs again to Solitude's court, though his mind was still pondering Lydia's behavior and his own reaction to it.

_Why? What had he said or done to cause this? Had that bard really done something special for her or was she just angry at him...or both maybe?_

_Maybe a combination of things after what they'd been through in recent weeks. Maybe they needed to be away from each other. Of course, that's what Arn had been telling himself back in Whiterun ...though that only lasted a night, really._

Arn was snapped back to the present by a short sniffle and realized it came from Jarl Elisif as she sat slightly slumped in her chair with her head down, blondish red, flowing locks partly obscuring her face as she held it in one hand.

"So many..." she murmured sadly as Arn realized they must be making a report on casualties of the Dragon attack, so he quietly stood off to the side a bit as the red haired man he now knew to be steward Falk Firebeard continued.

"We are still trying to get an accurate assessment of the outlying areas. Our main objective has been to shore up the city itself."

"Make sure those without a home are taken care of" Elisif continued raising her head to place her chin in her hand thoughtfully as Firebeared continued looking at a parchment he was reading from.

Arn's observations were rudely interrupted as a thick Nord man with finely cut brown hair in extravagant garb, elbowed up to him and whispered in his ear.

"I trust you found the young lady I sent to your quarters...agreeable, no?" he murmured in Arn's ear.

"Err-you are Erikur, then?" Arn whispered back, not sure whether to be conversing at a time like this or not, though he did see others occasionally whispering, so maybe that was a court thing.

"Yes, I am" he whispered cordially, shaking Arn's hand suddenly without permission "I am one of the Thanes here and a big believer in the future of Skyrim. I own a considerable amount of businesses here and am most grateful for your aid in destroying that Dragon" he gushed, continuing to shake Arn's hand.

"Yes, well" grunted Arn, extricating his hand, "Just doing what I could."

"A man of your prowess can certainly go places. I have a proposition I think you'd find most interesting" continued Erikur, seemingly unaware Arn was straining to hear what Elisif and Falk were discussing.

"Dragonborn, I have a task I would ask of you!" interrupted Elisif loudly and stunned everyone into silence for several seconds.

"Yes, What is it?" Arn asked, stepping out and bowing to one knee.

"You have done much for the people of Solitude, but I would ask more of you" Elisif stated, fixing Arn with a stern look he hadn't seen up until now, as though trying to emphasize something.

"You have but to name it, my Queen" stated Arn, wondering if he was being too formal or not.

Elisif smiled slightly, a sad smile really.

"I am no longer High Queen, but I thank you for your eloquence. There are strange happenings at the Wolfskull Cave. In light of the recent events, all my guards are needed here and a man of your caliber is best suited with a weapon in hand, not fixing roofs."

"Ah..uh...what sort of strange happenings?" stuttered Arn, his eloquence suddenly gone, puzzling over the sudden dead silence in the court.

Elisif waved her hand at Falk Firebeard, who continued.

"Farmers and travelers have reported ghost sightings, cloaked figures and strange lights at night...but...my Jarl, do you really think such stories have any merit?" Firebeard puzzled, turning back to question Elisif, much to Arn's surprise.

"If I recall correctly, I thought General Tullius recommended the Dragonborn for a different task" piped up Erikur, sauntering out into the middle as well.

"I did not ask for the Thane's vote on this matter!" retorted Elisif, obviously frustrated.

Arn was a bit shocked. He'd never seen anyone challenge a Jarl, much less the woman who was for all intents and purposes going to be the next ruler of Skyrim.

"But if Tullius thinks that-" Falk tried to continue.

"ENOUGH! It is what I have asked of the Dragonborn, but I have not ordered it so. It will be up to him what he wishes to do" she stated emphatically at first before softening her voice and turning to look at Arn again.

Arn realized all eyes had turned to him again as he still kneeled.

"I...will investigate Wolfskull Cave. Whatever mischief is afoot there will be dealt with. Rest assured" he stated, rising back to his feet, finally happy there'd be a reason to get away from these politics and maybe get a jab in at Tullius at the same time.

"Thank you, Dragonborn" replied Elisif quietly with a nod as Arn turned to leave.

As he turned and strode off, Arn smirked a little at the dead quiet in the court along with the flushed and angry expression on Erikur's face as he departed.

After taking an hour or two to make arrangements and gear up again, Arn quietly hired a random sellsword out of the Winking Skeever and headed out of the city.

It had taken longer than it should have and it was already dark.

If he'd had Lydia with him, they'd already be there probably.

As they walked, Arn reflected again on his decision not to bring her.

When he'd first left the Blue Palace, his first instinct was to go find her and set off just like they always did, but as he began asking around, he discovered she had gone to the bard's college and was apparently taking some sort of lessons there.

As he approached, he could hear singing and laughing, some of it unmistakably Lydia's.

He stood there on the steps as dusk settled its orange light across the city and pondered.

He'd told her to take time off. She had chosen this, even though he neither comprehended or liked her reasons.

Arn had a bad feeling about what might be said or transpire if he walked in the Bard's College and summoned her.

_Just let her be. It's one trip. Maybe some time apart will help us both get our heads back on straight. Besides, if there are vampires in this cave too...wouldn't want Lydia subjected to those memories again._

Arn turned to leave, realizing he needed to stealthily hire someone else to come since going alone was foolish but he didn't want the whole city to know what he was doing and he especially didn't want Lydia finding out he'd gone on an expedition without her or he'd probably never hear the end of it.

As Arn and Gorlic, the Nord sellsword he'd hired, approached a crest just off the road, Arn wondered just how wise it had been to hire this man without even talking to him since he had to hire him by proxy or else people would suspect.

Torches were lit by the entrance. So something was definitely going on.

They sneaked inside, but Arn found himself frequently stopping to make Gorlic hold back as the man had no skill at sneaking and when they were together, Arn found himself frequently getting poked in the back by either the Gorlic's greatsword or nocked arrow from a shabby bow that he didn't seem to know much about.

There was not much at first, a couple of draugr and a couple of mages in dark robes, who attacked without saying anything and received a quick reply in arrow shafts.

After a lengthy trek of nothingness, both Arn and Gorlic were surprised to find the passage open up into a vast chamber that stretched hundreds of feet in every direction with ancient carved pillars and stairs that looked like part of an old keep built into the mountain before them.

Across a large chasm, half a dozen dark cloaked figures chanted atop a platform with a strange altar.

Bluish purple light swirled and shot around the room, illuminating most of the cavern in a dark blue light as Arn began counting the cloaked figures and skeletons on the walkways and readied his arrows, removing the extra set from Gorlic's pack.

Though as he began to line up his first shot, Arn could hear the chants echoing around the cavern and something about them sent a chill up his spine.

While he was no mage, Arn had a bad feeling they needed to stop whatever was happening up there right away.

After taking out two skeletons, one of the mages spotted another mage going down with one of Arn's arrows through their neck.

"We're under attack!" came the shouts as figures began scurrying around and spell barriers glowed to life.

"Just hold them off a little longer!" came the reply from up top.

_Damn, no time._

"Come on! We've got to stop them now!" hissed Arn loudly to Gorlic behind him and took off sprinting across the paths that would lead him across and up.

Bypassing a skeleton with an axe, Arn leaped up onto a different walkway, glancing back enough to see Gorlic following him before turning around just in time to see a cloaked figure step out and fire a blast of ice aimed at Arn's head.

Ducking under the blast, he came up with an arrow nocked, and nailed the mage through the chest knocking him off his feet, even as Arn kept moving.

The chants up top were escalating in volume and intensity.

Arn barreled around another turn and nearly ran into two skeletons and a mage.

Kicking one skeleton away, he used the crook of his bow to wrangle the mage around the neck and shove him into the other skeleton before getting his bow free to nock arrows to finish them off.

One more level and he'd nearly be there as the chants changed again.

No time.

Rushing past another shambling skeleton, Arn turned a corner to face four cloaked mages with spell barriers already up.

"FUS RO DA!"

The explosion of force caught all four, broke their spell shields, and tossed them like rag dolls against the stone surface of the underground ruins.

The chanters were now chanting the same thing in unison loudly.

"WULD NA KEST!"

In a blur, he was up the last flight of stairs and across the platforms as a figure stepped into the center to begin chanting a single line as the rest fell silent.

They raised their hands upward toward the blue glow of magical essence that drifted above them and just as the leader in the middle was almost finished chanting, Arn's arrow found its mark in his chest, causing everything to suddenly fall silent as he lurched over, gurgling his last breath.

"Noooo!" came the cries as another loud voice rose above them all and filled the chamber.

"FOOOOLLLSSS! DID YOU TRULY THINK TO BIND THE WOLF QUEEN! AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" it hissed, receding along with the blue light into the cracks of the ceiling of the cavern.

Despite the loud presence, Arn was still firing arrows at the remaining mages, who'd turned on him the moment the loud voice subsided.

He crouched to avoid a fireball before pegging another mage with an arrow, leaving just two.

One tried to flee, leaving only one facing Arn, which didn't last long.

When the last one realized she'd tried a dead end, she turned and tried to cast something at Arn, but he was ready with an arrow.

Making sure each of them were finished, Arn checked the platform altar to make sure whatever they were doing couldn't be restarted, taking a book of magic incantations from the pedestal.

Realizing it was dead quiet, Arn had a bad feeling.

Gorlic should have gotten up here by now.

Retracing his steps back down, Arn sadly found the sellsword's body surrounded by the bones from three undead skeletons.

Arn felt a sickening feeling in his stomach, eyeing the nasty gashes Gorlic had taken.

He'd bypassed too many, left too many roaming behind him as he passed. Then again, they had to stop that ritual.

Arn sighed, kicking a skeleton's head off the platforms, angry and disgusted with the whole situation as he looked around.

_What in Oblivion were they trying to do down here?_


End file.
